Cobwebs and Shadows
by DQ02
Summary: Tony makes it through the final battle, but nothing comes without a price. Question is, who will pay it in the end?
1. Chapter 1

**Hi, this is just an idea I had after I saw Endgame, as the ending was entirely not ok. This one might not be much better, but I hope you enjoy it. Reviews very much appreciated. **

Tony is relieved at first, when Bruce clicks his fingers and the first people start reappearing. Everything they've worked for, all the sacrifices they have made... Nat, especially. This is all they wanted, and he should be ecstatic. But he just can't shake that gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach, and that voice in his head that hisses incessantly, reinforcing all his worst fears.

"_He won't come back. He died on Titan, disintegrated into dust, and even you, the great Tony Stark, with all your skill and your money, you can't bring him back. It's your fault." _

He has been able to suppress the voice for almost five years, but now it has returned full force and it seems to have only grown stronger. It's venomous and pointed and far too realistic for Tony's liking. He's holding his breath, waiting and praying to hear the never ending stream of chatter that only comes from one person. The endless questions used to irritate him (or so he pretended) but he'll write a thesis on every single one if only... if only...

His heart is pounding and his hands are clenched and yet he's trying his damnedest not to think about it, because in all honesty he doesn't know what he'll do if the kid doesn't come back.

Then the missiles start falling.

In the chaos that follows, Tony doesn't have time to look for Peter. Dust fills the air in a suffocating haze, and the ground is so ravaged by explosions that it bears a startling similarity to Titan. If Tony wasn't motivated enough before, he is when he realises just how close earth is to sharing the same fate as that burnt up planet in the sky. Monsters are swarming everywhere, and at the moment it's all Tony can do to keep himself alive. He keeps moving, repulsors firing in an almost constant barrage of assault, and nightmarish creatures fall on every side.

"Mr Stark!"

Tony's heart clenches when he hears the sound. He's almost certain he's imagined it when a figure appears in his peripheral vision, out of breath and battered, but loud and alive and reassuringly solid. Peter is grinning and babbling, and for a moment all Tony can do is listen.

"Oh my gosh Mr Stark, I can't believe it's you! I was really scared when I woke up cause I thought I was still on Titan, but then I realised I was back on earth and I don't remember much except we were fighting the giant purple guy and then everyone started disappearing but I'm here now and I'm so glad I found you-"

He cuts off abruptly when Tony pulls him into a bone crushing hug. Tony knows there isn't time for this, not really, but the kid is here, and he's alive, and all Tony cares about right now is having him in his arms. Peter relaxes slightly and though Tony can tell he's surprised, he seems pleased.

"Oh- this... this is nice."

Tony wants to say something but he finds that his throat is constricted and his eyesight is a little fuzzy. Although it goes against everything he wants to do, he pushes Peter away and holds his shoulders firmly, staring at him with some urgency.

"Listen kid." He says in as firm a voice as he can muster. "I know you want to help, and I won't stop you, but you have to STAY SAFE, ok? The _minute _you get hurt, get to the sidelines, get to safety and don't- don't" his voice cracks here, and Peter stares at him with wide eyes.

"Don't do anything stupid" he finishes softly, cracking a weak smile.

"But Mr Stark..." the boy whines, eyes pleading, but he must see the desperation in Tony's eyes because all he does is nod, and once again Tony is reminded of how heart-wrenchingly young he is. "Goodbye, kid." He says briefly, and he hates to leave Peter in this horrifying arena of death and blood, but he tells himself it's for the best. Thanos must be stopped, at any cost, and just seeing the kid has increased Tony's determination a hundredfold. Tony flies off in search of the giant, and he's so focussed on his task that he fails to notice a small, insignificant figure swinging through the carnage below.

When he comes across Doctor Strange he feels almost nervous. Strange's hands are busy holding off the equivalent of a small army all by himself, but his eyes are steady as he stares at Tony.

"_One" _he mouths, holding up a single finger, and Tony's insides seem to solidify. He know what he has to do. He hoped there would be another way, he really did... but this feels inevitable, like all the recent events have culminated in the finale they always knew was coming. He sees pain in Strange's eyes, and sorrow, and forgive him for feeling that those might be justified. I mean, the good Doctor and himself might not have always seen eye to eye, but Tony always held a healthy respect for the wizard. No, Tony doesn't think it's particularly vain to think (or even hope) that Strange might feel a little sad over his passing, but what puzzles him, what he honestly didn't expect to see in the Doctors eyes is _guilt._ Real, awful _guilt, _as though the doctor has done something unforgivable, something Tony would definitely under no circumstances approve of. It unbalances Tony, and for a moment he wonders if perhaps he has misunderstood something. Should he have done something differently? But then Strange turns away, his attention focussed on the huge troll that springs from nowhere, and Tony is once again on the move. He must have imagined it. Or so he tells himself.

Thanos is not hard to find. After all, massive purple dickheads tend to draw attention to themselves, and more so when involved in a fight between a god and a superhuman. Captain America and Thor appear to be tag teaming Thanos in an intense and brutal match, and although Tony is relieved to see two of the strongest Avengers already there, his heart sinks when he sees the state they're in. Steve is white as a sheet, his shield quite literally in pieces, and his fate seems sealed when Thanos chucks Thor to the side as if he weighs no more crushed drinks can. This is extremely worrying considering Thor probably weighs closer to a good few kegs than a can. Still, who would Captain America be if he didn't stick it out until the very end, and Steve raises the remnants of his shield in a hopelessly defiant gesture as Thanos prepares to strike the final blow. Tony seizes the moment, swooping in and blasting the great purple fist out of the way, and though admittedly his relationship with Steve has improved in recent years, Tony would be lying if he didn't say he relished the chance to save Captain America's ass just one last time. The man in red white and blue catches his eye and nods, exhausted, but still manages to crawl his way over to where the god of thunder lies prone. Tony diverts his attention from the two, putting all his effort into attacking the mad Titan. Every punch he throws, every blast, is a release from years of suffering. Finally, _finally, _Tony has a chance to make things right, to do something good. He's lived through enough pain to last a thousand lifetimes and he's past caring what happens to him, as long as the kid is ok when all is said and done. He doesn't have to worry about his biological kid, not yet at least, because as long as the dreaded snap is averted he knows she will be looked after. He wants to protect he, needs to protect her with everything he has and puts that need into every. Single. Blow that he lands on the giant. But although he's doing it for his baby girl, at the back of his mind he's still worrying about the boy on the battlefield. He knows Peter is brave, but his bravery makes him foolish, and Tony can't stand to think of him out there again so soon.

He doesn't have the time to look around, so focussed is he on defeating Thanos. Steve, however, is another matter.

Steve has been trying to revive Thor, but for now it's a lost cause. He sits back and takes a deep breath. He should get up and help, but he thinks if he tries his legs may well give out from beneath him. He will help. In a minute. For now, he surveys the surroundings, scanning for immediate danger. Tony is still engaged in combat, but that isn't what draws his attention. Steve can see a shape crouching at the side, tensed and ready to leap. It's shape is vaguely insect-like and Steve staggers to his feet, ready to fight the monster though he doesn't really believe he can. It is only when a rare shaft of sunlight catches the creature that Steve sees the familiar red hue, and the unmistakeable Spiderman emblem. He relaxes, thankful that Tony has backup waiting in the wings, before he takes another look, and realises the so-called Spider 'Man' cannot possibly be more than 15 years old. His heart sinks as he remembers Berlin, and... he dropped a bridge on a kid? Tony brought a _kid _to the battlefield. He thinks if he wasn't so tired he would be more angry, but he just can't bring himself to muster any rage against Tony, not when the real enemy is so close to winning.

"Urrrgh"

The sudden groan grabs Steve's attention, and he turns away from the young spider to tend to the wounded god. Later on, when he sees the aftermath of the fight, and realises what he let happen, Steve will finally crack. He hasn't seen this since the war. And some things should never be seen.

Tony stares at the infinity gauntlet. He grasps it, knuckles white, hands bleeding already and bleeding further as the dig into the sharp bolts, but it doesn't matter at all. Because he finally _has _it. He can finally fix everything. He can give them all their lives back, give his daughter a life... and his son. And Tony would die a million deaths without hesitation to make that happen. So his heart is not heavy as he prepares to slip on the gauntlet. On the contrary, his heart is filled with an unconditional love for the people around him, hell, for everyone on earth. This is what he is meant to do, he can feel it so strongly, with a conviction unlike anything he has felt before. He takes a breath and steels himself, and just as his fingers slip past the edge, a blur of red, black and gold zips past him, and his hands are empty.

"NO!" Tony screams, horrified. This was it, this was their one and only chance! He looks up, prepared to see Thanos with the gauntlet, but what he sees is worse.

"no." Tony whispers, his blood like ice in his veins.

Peter Parker is crouched on the other side of the clearing, his small frame is bruised and his suit looks like so much scrap metal, but all Tony sees are his eyes, wide and innocent and so guilty as he stares at Tony.

"I'm sorry Mr Stark." The words are scared, but bold, and Tony feels his world collapsing.

"I'm sorry Mr Stark, but I I have super strength, and you're human, and... and I heard you have a kid now, so..." the kid is obviously terrified, he's rambling and almost hyperventilating, and Tony thinks he can talk him down. He hopes he can talk him down.

"No, kid, this isn't your responsibility." He stumbles forward, and Peter freezes. "Please, kid. Just- just give me the gauntlet." A sob rises in his throat and the words are choked. "I just got you back. _Please _Peter. _Please._" He takes another shaky step forward, and he's close now, _so close_, so he reaches out his hand tentatively, but Peter jerks back, eyes like saucers, and before Tony can do anything the boy has slipped on the gauntlet. Tony feels his mouth open in an awful scream, but he doesn't hear it over the boys anguished cries. The first sparks leap, and in seconds electricity is coursing up Peters arm, consuming the entire right hand side of his body in shards of lightning, and Tony reaches for him but he can't get _close_ enough and he's so so close and Peter is dying right in front of him and all Tony wants to do is make it stop, make it all ok again. He doesn't think anything will ever be ok again.

Peter locks eyes with Tony, and Tony can feel the tears streaming down his cheeks but he can't look away. "Bye Mr Stark" comes the faint whisper, and the boy screams as he raises his fist, and as his body shakes and threatens to collapse with the strain, and as the flames leap over his torso, the boy snaps his fingers.

All around them the monsters begin to disintegrate, blowing away as ash on the breeze, but it might as well be Tony's whole world disintegrating. He falls to his knees and crawls towards the boy, cupping the pale face in his hands as glassy eyes stare back at him. Tony howls, a sound so full of grief and rage and sorrow that immediately every avenger knows something has gone terribly, terribly wrong. He clutches the body, mumbling and whispering sweet nothings to a boy who lies completely unresponsive. The avengers have begun to assemble around the scene in a mute circle. Pepper gasps when she sees what has happened, and although grief wells up inside her, she goes straight to Tony.

"Oh Tony, baby I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry baby come here. Look at me baby please. You're safe now Tony, we're safe." The words come out empty. She reaches out a hand to him, tries to pull him close but he shakes her off, holding Peter to his chest and rocking with silent, horrible sobs. He looks _old, _and Pepper's heart breaks over and over again for the man she loves and his boy. There is, however, a terrible voice deep within her that says "_Thank you for not taking him away. Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you." _

The remaining avengers watch in silence, sadness in the eyes of each and every one as they watch the broken man weep, holding a body that looks far too small for the suit it wears. Steve's memories of the war, and all the shattered children force him to close his eyes against the pain. Clint stares at the boy and imagines his own children, and can think of nothing more than getting back to them. Bruce clenches his fist in rage for the kid that pestered him endlessly with questions he should have been far too young to ask. He always was too smart for his own good.

The one exception is Doctor Strange. If Tony was able to tear his eyes away from the boy just for a second, he would see sadness in Strange's eyes. Of course he would, for how could the Doctor not feel pain at such a sight. But the overriding emotion that simmers just behind the stern facade of the Doctor is guilt. Such guilt that Tony would know instantly what it meant, and then Strange would die. Because the guilt that the doctor feels comes from the knowledge that they have saved the world at the expense of a child, and that Strange has allowed it to happen.

Because in the end, it was the only way.

**So there it is! I know this ending is just as bad as the real Endgame, but remember Peter was exposed to radiation just like Bruce, and if it's possible for Bruce to survive then so can Peter... this is just a one shot for now but I could turn it into a real story if anyone wants? Also, for any Iron Man fans that are feeling sad about the ending of Endgame, I strongly suggest you go onto YouTube and check out the Christmas song 'River'. (The version from Ally Mcbeal, not the original). Seems like a weird suggestion but just give it a listen and you might get an interesting surprise... listen carefully to the voice. However, listening to it made me even sadder about Endgame so, be warned. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi guys. So, as promised, here is another instalment. I realise there isn't much action in this chapter, but I felt I needed to expand on the current situation. Rest assured, we will be seeing more of Peter. And I am quite new to this, so any feedback is greatly appreciated. Enjoy!**

"Sir" said the soft automated voice of Friday. "I suggest you move Peter Parker to the nearest hospital."

Tony didn't stir. Friday must have been damaged more than he realised during the fight. Peter didn't need a hospital. Peter needed a coffin. This grim thought prompted Tony to hold the boy even closer. Pepper had given up on trying to move him and had settled for curling an arm around his and staying with him, giving support in the only way she could. Tony had passed the hysterical stage long ago and was now silently cradling the boy in the middle of the desolate battlefield.

"By my calculations, the nearest hospital is 4.7 miles northeast Sir."

Why had Tony made Friday so persistent? For possibly the first time ever he resented the AI's presence.

"I suggest you hurry, sir."

"Shut up." Tony mumbled softly. He couldn't stand to hear the AI talk about Peter, about his boy as if he was still alive. It hurt too badly.

"Sir, Peter Parker is in urgent need of medical care."

"_SHUT UP_!" Tony screamed, his voice hoarse. "_SHUT UP shut up shut up shut up shut up._" The scream had faded to little more than a whisper and his vocal cords were protesting but that was good, pain was good because it meant he was still alive. He felt a tug on his arm, and wrenched his gaze away from Peter's still form to meet the worried gaze of Pepper.

"What is it honey?" She asked, voice soft and imploring, eyes like steel. "Talk to me."

Tony shuddered and sagged against her. "It's Friday." He rasped. "She won't stop, she keeps acting like... like he's still alive." He felt another sob rise into his throat, and payed no attention to Pepper as she spoke into her own headset, so lost was he within a sea of grief. He would have been content to drown there had there not been a firm and uncompromising shake of his shoulder.

"Tony." Said Pepper urgently. "Tony snap out of it. Snap out of it now!" She slapped his cheek with force, and Tony turned to look at her, staring up, eyes dull and unquestioning. Pepper's eyes, on the other hand, were bright and full of fire and... hope? What was there to be hopeful for anymore? Tony didn't understand, but she leaned in, gripping him even tighter.

"Peter is _alive._"

Tony shook his head. "No, Pep, not you too," he whimpered. "I can't take it, just- just stop, ok?"

Pepper gave a sigh of exasperation. "Tony Stark, PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER!" Tony stared up in shock. "...Pep?"

"I just scanned Peter for vitals, Tony." She smiles at him and it was like the sun had emerged from within the dust. "He's alive!" Her expression became much more serious. "But he won't be for much longer if you don't _get moving._"

Tony's heart was threatening to leap out his chest. Was it possible? He looked down at the pale, bruised face of Peter Parker. He looked so... lifeless. But-

Tony scrambled to lay him down as gently as humanly possible, and with immense dread, placed two fingers over his neck. _Please. _Said his treacherous inner voice. _Let it be true. _

Something leapt under his fingertips. Was that- was that- a pulse? He pressed harder, desperate for proof. There! He felt it that time, he was certain. He leapt to his feet, dislodging a startled Pepper, and pressed the arc reactor to enable his suit. Nothing happened. He gaped down in dismay. It was too damaged. He couldn't fly, how was- Peter needed to get to a hospital _now. _"Pepper, can you-"

no, no, not fast enough, think Tony _think. _

"STRANGE!" He yelled, wheeling around in madness, searching for the sorcerer. "STRANGE, WHERE ARE YOU! I NEED HELP NOW!"

Within moments the wizard was at his side, along with most of the other avengers.

"What is it Tony?" The wizard asked, his eyes inscrutable.

"The kid." Tony panted. "He's alive, and he needs a hospital _now._" He looked around for help, but none of the avengers seemed relieved. They stared at him with sorrowful eyes, and Tony was confused, because this was _good. _After a moment Steve stepped forward and placed a hand on Tony's shoulder, his eyes so goddamn _understanding_ that Tony wanted to puke. He shoved the arm away and stared around wildly.

"This is real!" He exclaimed. "He's alive, I swear it ask Pepper! Please-" his voice cracked and he heaved a sigh of frustration. "ASK PEPPER GODDAMNIT! _Please_. I'm not mad. _He needs help._"

"It's true." Said Pepper. She stood up and placed a hand on Tony's arm. "The boy's alive but barely, and we have to get him to a hospital as soon as possible." She turned to stare down Doctor Strange. "Can you open a portal, Doctor? It's the quickest way." The doctor nodded, and Tony gasped in relief. He cast a grateful look at Pepper- _god he loved her- _and then wasted no time in scooping up Peter, who lay scarily limp in his arms. The second the portal was open he leapt through, careful not to jostle Peter, closely followed by Pepper, then Doctor Strange, and then Bruce.

The hospital was so chaotic that nobody payed much attention when a giant glowing portal opened and four avengers leapt out of it. That's how bad the destruction Thanos had caused was. The air was thick with screaming, and harried looking nurses scurried around, their uniforms bloodied and crumpled. Tony grasped a passing nurse by the shoulder, halting him in his tracks. He turned to face Tony in annoyance.

"You have to help me," Tony began, voice shaking. "My kid is hurt, he's- he's dying, we need help-"

The nurse's eyes softened slightly but he still pulled away. "Everyone's dying here. I'm sorry but you have to wait your turn." He nurse moved to walk away, and Tony felt his heart seize in panic. Then, in one swift movement, Pepper grabbed the nurse by the shoulders and stared into his eyes with a gaze that even hardened criminals quailed under.

"Now you listen here." She said in a low, controlled voice, and the nurse's eyes widened in surprise and horror as he finally realised who they were.

"That kid right there," she pointed at Peter without taking her eyes from the nurse. "That kid is the reason you are standing here right now. He just saved the _entire world _from destruction, and now he's dying." She placed a hand on the nurses chest as if to steady herself. "He is _dying, _he needs help now, and you are going to find me a doctor, and a private bedroom, and quite frankly I don't care how."

The nurse, thoroughly terrified by now, gulped, nodded, and said softly. "Come with me ma'am."

They hurried through the cramped hallways, and by now they had begun to attract odd looks. Finally the nurse paused outside a doorway. He looked around furtively, then pushed open the door and motioned with his head for them to go inside. Tony didn't bother with thanks, and as soon as he was inside he lay Peter down on the bed. The boy still hadn't moved. He fell to his knees beside the bed and stared at Strange and Bruce, begging them silently to do something.

"I'll be back with a doctor as soon as I can." Came a voice from the door, and the nurse was gone. Strange moved forward, checking Peters pulse and lifting one eyelid to test for a response

"His pupils are dilated, and he appears unresponsive." Tony's breath hitched in his throat. The door opened behind them, and a small man with a heavily lined forehead entered. His eyes widened when he saw the extent of the damage to the boy on the bed. The man opened his mouth as if to say something, but Strange beat him to it. He surveyed the man dispassionately and for once Tony was grateful for the wizards cool efficiency.

"We need to get him in for a CAT scan pronto, so I can assess the extent of the internal damage. There's almost certainly swelling to the brain, and he's at high risk for myocardial infarction so we need to get moving now."

The other doctor looked completely nonplussed, but gave a slight nod, and said with some confusion "well... certainly. Um. I suppose you better follow me then."

Strange and Bruce began wheeling Peter out of the room, and Tony tried to follow. He didn't make it very far before Pepper placed a soft hand on his arm and pulls him back. He turned to her, hurt and panic written clearly on his face. "Pep what are you doing? Let me go Pep, I have to go with him. PETER! Let me go, Pep, LET GO!" His breathing escalated and he tried to pull away, because Peter was getting away and he couldn't let the kid go, what if something happened, what if he went where Tony couldn't protect him, what if-

"Hey, hey there, shhh, honey shhh, that's it." Pepper brought him closer, enveloping him in a soft hug. "You can't do him any good there Tony. You can't help him like this, you need to rest." She places her hands on either side of his face and leant in, her forehead touching his. "We're alive, Tony." She felt his breathing slowing, matching hers, but when she looked at his eyes they were still desolate and wild.

"I have to help him Pep, I have to do something. What can I do? He- " Tony broke off as though he was being strangled, and Pepper didn't think she'd ever seen him look so horrified.

"_He did it for me." _Tony hisses. "He _knew._" His face creased as he tried (and failed) not to cry. He looked at Pepper, and he could see in her eyes she was a little scared by what she saw in his.

"Pepper, he knew about Morgan." Pepper squinted in confusion before the terrible truth dawned on her, and she shook her head.

"Oh Tony... tell me it's not true."

The corner of Tony's mouth curled up in a gruesome approximation of a smile, and his next words were tinged with hysteria. "He did it for _us, _Pepper. He _destroyed _himself, and he did it for me."

His words shocked Pepper to her core. She had known that Peter would do anything for Tony, but she never expected this. She felt an overwhelming surge of compassion for the boy, and she knew it was horrible, but she was so grateful to him. She rubbed Tony's arm in a soothing motion, trying desperately to calm him down. "I know you're worried honey, I know it's hard, but please remember that he's _alive _and you- Tony if you had tried to use that gauntlet- well- Morgan would no longer have a father."

Tony knew what she was trying to do. She was trying to distract him, calm him down, and normally it would have worked, but he was just too worried. Peter was alone and dying and he needed to do _something _or he thought he might go insane. Then, with a sinking feeling he realised what he had to do.

"May." He groaned, rubbing a hand over his forehead and closing his eyes in despair.

"What was that sweetie?"

"May Parker." The words came out garbled. "The kid's aunt. He's all she has. I need to find her, to- to tell her what's happened."

"Oh honey." Said Pepper as she sighed, and looked down at her lap. "If you want I'll find her and tell her-"

"No." Tony interrupted. "It should be me."

"Are you sure, sweetie?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am." Tony stood up and ran a hand through his hair. It was thick with dust and grime. "I'll uh, I'll take a cab or something."

Pepper shook her head. "No Tony, you're not taking a cab, and you definitely can't drive right now. I'll call Happy, get him to pick you up, ok?"

Tony nodded absentmindedly. He turned and placed a hand on Peppers arm, gripping it so hard the knuckles turned white. Pepper winced. He swallowed and looked into her eyes. "You'll call me or- call Friday as soon as he's out of surgery, right?" Pepper nodded, but he continued, seeking reassurance. "As soon as you know _anything _Pep, you call me. You will, right?" Pepper nodded again. "_Of course, _Tony. I promise." She placed a hand on his cheek. "I won't let anything happen to him, you know that. Now go wait outside, Happy will be here soon."

Tony kissed her on the cheek hurriedly, and left. Pepper sat down on the empty bed, closed her eyes, and sighed. She had promised not to let anything happen to the boy. She shouldn't have made that promise.

Tony stood outside Peters old apartment building. Happy had offered to come with him, but...

He took a long, slow breath, pulling air in through the nose, out through the mouth, in a technique he had used many times in the past to stave off panic attacks. He had faced down criminals, monsters and super villains, but somehow the thought of having to tell May Parker that her boy was dying, well... that was worse. "Friday," he murmured "scan apartment 12B for life forms."

"One life form detected Sir." Came the reply.

She was definitely in there then. Tony had run out of ways to procrastinate, so he pushed the buzzer, and waited. It had barely buzzed once when there came the answering tone. He could hear breathing on the other side, and he braced himself for what he knew was coming.

"...Peter?"

Tony could hear the hope and the desperation in Mays voice, and it took all of his willpower not to break down once again as he squashed her hopes. He cleared his throat. "No, May." He forced himself to say. "...it's Tony. Tony Stark. I need to speak with you. It's about Peter."

There was a muffled gasp, then a faint 'click' as she hung up. Tony stood in silence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello again! Hope this chapter isn't too boring, I promise the plot will pick up soon. Please let me know if I can improve upon it, all feedback is welcome! Hope you enjoy.**

Tony and May stood in the hospital corridor. The overpowering smell of antiseptic did a poor job at masking the stench of blood. Mays hair was dishevelled, her eyes red and puffy, and she looked through Tony as if she didn't know him. After arriving at the hospital they had gone straight to Peters room, only to be told he was still in surgery. May had insisted on waiting outside, and Tony had been only to glad to go with her. However, he was uncomfortable. He had tried to explain, tried to tell her the truth, but once May had heard the state Peter was in she hadn't been interested in anything but getting to him as soon as possible. The hospital staff had been unhelpful at first, but May had dealt with that swiftly. Her wrath had been really rather impressive, and though Tony suspected she would get on brilliantly with Pepper, he was petrified at the thought of the two of them together. His already frayed nerves were on edge as he waited for the moment that May turned on him. Guilt was eating away at Tony's insides, clawing at him like a deranged beast, and he had braced himself for an onslaught of abuse from May. Truth be told he would have welcomed it. But she had said almost nothing to him, and the silence was torture. Pepper had had to leave to supervise the battlefield cleanup. Abruptly, May sat down on one of the chairs that lined the corridor. Her eyes stared blankly into space, and one hand worried constantly at the skin on her lower lip, picking at it until it bled. Tony had to look away. He glanced at the door, behind which Peter was...dying?

No! He shook his head furiously, trying to rid his mind of that thought. Peter wasn't dying. He was being operated on. They had good doctors here, the best. Strange was the best of the best. And they would save him. They would.

"Spider-Man, huh?"

Tony turned back to look at May. The words were spoken weakly, and still she stared straight ahead at the white hospital wall.

"How can they call him a man?" She whispered, hand trembling where it hovered above her lip. "He's just a boy." Finally she turned her face to Tony, eyes stricken. "He's my-"

her mouth seemed to stretch, and she choked out "_Peter"_ before her face crumpled inwards and she dissolved into sobs.

For maybe the second or third time in his life, Tony Stark was at a loss for words. Rage he could handle, but tears? He had never been good with emotions, and he had shed enough tears of his own. He wanted to comfort May, and tell her the kid would be alright, but he couldn't because he _didn't know, _and he was terrified of making things worse.

"It was supposed to be me." He managed, with some effort. "I tried- it was supposed to be me."

May rubbed at her eyes with her palm, attempting to stem the flow of tears without much success. "I know." She looked up at him and tried for a watery smile that ended up more like a grimace. "But when did he ever listen to us?"

Tony made a slight motion with his head that could have been a nod of agreement, and slowly sat down next to May. His whole body ached. The adrenaline of the past few hours must have been suppressing it, but now it had taken over with a vengeance. He wasn't leaving for a check up though. Not with Peter still in surgery. He leaned his head wearily against the wall and allowed himself to surrender to the memories that rose unbidden to the forefront of his mind. One in particular stood out.

_Tony landed on the pavement, just outside a cafe in central Queens. The patrons inside gaped unashamedly as his suit retracted, revealing a slightly crumpled designer suit. Tony brushed some non existent dust off the sleeve and pulled out his signature Ray-Bans._

"_Friday," he muttered, looking around. "Get me the exact location of Peter Parker, please." _

"_Yes boss." Came the reply instantly. "Peter Parker is approximately 20 yards away, in the alleyway to your left." Tony frowned in confusion. What had the kid been doing in an alleyway for half an hour? He walked over to the entrance and peered in. At the far end he could see some kind of white mass, and just next to it, a red shape huddled on the ground. "Shit." _

_Tony sprinted through the alley to where Peter was sitting, slumped against the wall. When Tony saw that the whitish mass was actually at least three-four guys covered in webbing, he felt a curious mix of emotion. Pride at the kids skill, sure, but more pressing than that was his concern for the boy, who hadn't yet moved. Tony crouched down before him, shaking his shoulder gently. "Hey underoos, you alright?" He swatted the kids cheek gently, and to his relief, Peter opened his eyes groggily. They sharpened up considerably once he realised who was in front of him. _

"_Oh, hey Mr Stark!" Said the kid, a little too cheerily. "How did you get here?" _

_Tony paused for a moment. "I was in the neighbourhood. You gonna tell me why you're lying here like a shiny trash bag huh?" Peter shifted and gave a weak laugh. _

"_Oh I'm fine Mr Stark, really. You didn't need to come find me, I was just... having a rest, you know, fighting bad guys really takes it out of ya, but you don't need to worry about me, I'll just-"_

_Tony held up one hand, cutting his rambling off mid-flow. "Nuh- uh kid, not buying it." He looked down, and felt a lovely pit of dread settle firmly in the pit of his stomach when he saw Peters hand clutches firmly over a patch of webbing on his abdomen. He sighed deeply. This kid was going to turn him grey before his time. "Kid, what is that?" He said in his firmest no-nonsense voice, the type he used when he didn't have time for arguments. _

"_Oh, that." Peter had the good grace to look sheepish at least. "S' just a... slight stab wound. Not a big deal." _

"_NOT A BIG DEAL?" Tony's voice rose by several decibels, and Peter jumped. Tony rolled his eyes. That was it. "Right kid," he said, getting to his feet and enabling his suit. "You're coming with me. We gotta get you to the tower stat." _

"_But Sir..." Peter began to protest, but shut up wisely when Tony directed his fiercest look at him. _

_Tony picked him up awkwardly, trying his best not to aggravate the wound. _

"_Jeez you're heavy kid." He joked in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Too much walnut-date loaf huh?" He didn't get a reply, so without further ado Tony took off into the sky, racing towards the tower as fast as he could. When he finally got there he wasted no time in getting Peter straight to the Medbay. Doctor Cho smiled at him as she closed the door, saying "Thanks for getting him here, I'll handle the rest. I'm sure you're very busy." _

_Tony was left standing alone on the other side, feeling uncomfortably helpless. He wiped the sweat off his forehead, wincing in distaste, but he couldn't deny the overwhelming sense of relief he felt to know the kid was out of danger. If this was what being a parent was like, thank god he didn't have any other kids. _

_Suddenly his left pocket started buzzing. Tony pulled out his phone, fumbling slightly as his hands were still clammy. He grinned when he saw who it was, and pressed the green button._

"_Hey, Babe-"_

"_TONY STARK! YOU CANNOT FLY OUT OF A MEETING WITH FIVE STATE GOVERNORS AND THE VICE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, CLAIMING ITS 'IRON MAN STUFF'."_

_Tony flinched in shock. He'd forgotten about that part. "But, Pepper, I was-"_

_She sighed on the other end of the phone. "Oh, Tony I don't want to hear it. We'll speak later. _

_For now I have to sort out this mess._

"_Love you?" He offered tentatively. _

_She huffed again, but he could tell she was placated. "Love you too." She replied grudgingly. "Bye."_

_Tony grinned as he hung up. Pepper wouldn't be mad for long. He'd cook her dinner, and then- on second thoughts- he probably shouldn't cook. That might make things worse_. _He looked up just as Doctor Cho exited the room. The spike of worry that shot through his heart was disturbingly familiar by now. Maybe he should check up on the arc reactor just to make sure everything was working correctly. Doctor Cho smiled at him knowingly. _

"_Peters fine. It was just a minor wound, and with his advanced healing it should be better in no time. You were right to bring him though, he keeps going on about being able to take care of it himself- and that would have been a bad idea." _

_Tony rolled his eyes yet again. Of course the kid couldn't take care of himself. He was too goddamn heroic for his own good. One of these days he was going to get himself shot, and without a single thought for Tony's mental health! He shook his head, and pushed the door open, ready to give Peter a piece of his mind. As soon as he stepped foot in the room he stopped short, staring in bewilderment at the boy who was currently hopping about the room trying to shove his left leg back into the spider- suit. When Peter saw Tony he gave a tiny yelp and fell backwards, tripping over the suit. Tony reached out and grabbed him by the strings of his hoodie just in time. "Kid... what on earth are you playing at?" Peter looked away guiltily. "Well Mr Stark, Sir, I'm fine now, and I should really get back to May, cause she worries, you know? You've done so much for me and I don't want to impose." _

_Tony raised one eyebrow and tapped his foot impatiently. "Spit it out kid." _

_Peter sighed and mumbled "I could hear Ms Potts yelling at you through the door." He looked up at Tony, eyes wide and reproachful. "You really shouldn't have left your meeting Mr Stark, not for me. I was fine! And what's more," he said, really getting into the swing of things "I can't believe you still have that baby monitor protocol in place. I don't need constant checking up on Sir, I can do things by myself-"_

"_Well its a good thing I did have it!" Exclaimed Tony in irritation. "Maybe if I hadn't been there someone else would have found the great Spider-Man passed out in an alleyway, and then you can kiss goodbye to your secret identity!" He made little fly away hand motions to emphasise his point. Peter glared at him, and Tony groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Look, kid," he said, trying his best to sound friendly, "try to see it from my point of view. I get a notification from Friday that you're in the middle of some alley and you haven't moved for 20 minutes, what am I supposed to think?" He reaches out and patted Peters shoulder stiffly, painfully aware of how awkward the gesture was. He wasn't good at this. "I just want you to stay safe, ok? It's..." he cleared his throat. "It's important to me, ok?" Peter didn't say anything, and Tony was worried he'd said something wrong. Then Peter lunged at him, hugging me round the middle in a vice like grip. Tony coughed in surprise. "Thanks Mr Stark." Said the boy. Tony cleared his throat again and patted the kids head. "That's... that's enough now kid." He pretended to be relieved when the kid pulled away. But the boy was grinning, and soon enough Tony found himself laughing too. _

That memory made Tony flinch. He was full of so many regrets concerning Peter. Why did he always pull away when the kid got too close for comfort? He never had that problem with Morgan, but then again, in his own way Peter was much more vulnerable. No, Tony thought, correcting himself. _You _were the vulnerable one, _you_ couldn't cope with the responsibility. And look where it got you. Another memory rose to mind, but this one was far less welcome.

_They were standing in the dark confines of a huge spacecraft. The air was stale and artificial and smelled like death. Tony stared at Peter in dismay as he explained why he was there. "And by the way," Peter says, glancing down at his new spider-suit admiringly "this suit is ridiculously intuitive, so, if anything, it's kinda your fault that I'm here-"_

"_What did you just say?" Tony stated harshly, holding a finger up and daring the kid with his eyes to go any further. Peter backed down immediately. "I take that back, I'm sorry Mr Stark." _

_Tony let it go for now, but he felt sick to his stomach because he knew Peter was right. It was his fault. _

Tony felt like a fraud sitting there next to May as they waited for news. He didn't deserve to be there. It was his fault, it was his fault Peter died so far from home on that lonely planet, and it was his fault when he stole the infinity gauntlet right from Tony's grasp. Tony could feel himself slipping own, way way down into an endless pit of self-hatred when he was rudely pulled out by May.

"Tony something's happening!" She shrieked, fingers digging into his shoulder with force he hadn't known she possessed. A team of doctors scurried past, and a few snatched phrases floated back to Tony and May. Tony felt the blood drain from his face when he heard the words 'cardiac arrest' and he stared at May in horror. A few seconds later, Bruce pushed his way out the doors using his shoulder. Both Tony and May stood up, united for the moment by their grief.

"Tell me what's happening." Said May, a thick tremor in her voice. Then "_tell me what's happening to my son!_" Bruce looked at them both, and Tony wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to that question. Bruce opened his mouth, shut it, and opened it again.

"I don't know." He said hopelessly. "I don't know."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi guys, back again! Sorry for the wait. Hashed this chapter out on the plane, as I am flying off for an end-of-exams holiday. Should have lots of time to create further chapters for you guys. Just wanted to say thanks for all the feedback and support I have received on this story, but in particular a massive thank you to AkaDeca, who actually gave me the idea for this chapter. Hope it turns out the way you wanted! Enjoy, everyone.**

Due to his uncomfortably frequent brushes with death, Peter had spent a fair amount of time thinking about the afterlife. He had imagined it all. Heaven, Hell, Nirvana, Elysium. In fact, he'd always secretly hoped that if the worst came to the worst, he would end up becoming one with the force. He quite fancied the idea of popping up unexpectedly to give sage advice to Ned. Yes, he'd had some thoughts on the matter. But although he'd imagined hundreds of different scenarios, ending up at the avengers compound had _definitely_ not been one of them. At least, he didn't _think _so. He peered around in confusion. Where before there had been nothing but rubble, there were now pristine walls and sleek, modern surfaces. Peter hadn't spent much time at the compound, but he knew a kitchen when he saw one.

"Argh!"

Peter winced, momentarily distracted by a sudden pain in his chest. It felt like someone was electrocuting him with a very small cattle prod. He clutched a hand to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut. He gasped as his ribs seemed to contract. Wasn't the point of dying was to make the pain go _away?_ Then, almost as soon as it had arrived, the pain was gone. He bent over slightly, trying to catch his breath, and was surprised to see that he was still in his spider-suit! He patted it down gingerly, but miraculously it seemed to be in perfect condition. He breathed a sigh of relief. Mr Stark wouldn't moan at him about having to fix it. Then Peter remembered where he was, and the swift realisation that he would most likely never be seeing Mr Stark, or anyone else again, was more than a little hard to handle. Blood rushed to his head and he staggered a little. He spun around, looking for a stool, or a chair, or something, just so he could sit down for a minute. He almost choked on the yell that threatened to escape from his throat when he realised someone was standing roughly two metres away.

She was standing with her back to him, dressed head to toe in what Peter thought looked like a Star Trek uniform. Or something. Her hair was for the most part a deep red, yet the ends were blonde, and she was calmly and methodically making what looked very much like a peanut butter sandwich.

"Are you hungry?" She said, putting the final touches to it, and turning around.

"I can make another if you want."

"Urgk" was all the elegant response Peter could muster. Black Widow smiled slightly, said

"I'll take that as a no then" and took a bite out of her sandwich.

Peter felt the bright red of shame creeping up his neck and settling firmly in his ears. Battling utter mortification, he managed to force out

"...Hello. I'm Peter." He raised one hand in an awkward half-wave, then glanced at it askance, and hurriedly tucked it behind his back.

"I know." Said Black Widow, leaning back against the counter on her elbows. "Tony told us all about you. Don't worry," she smiled fondly, "all good things."

"He talked about me?" Wondered Peter, more to himself than anyone else. He felt a little surge of warmth in his chest, but it was soon overtaken by a wave of worry. He wondered what was happening to Mr Stark. And May. Even Ned. He hoped they weren't too mad at him. He hoped they were ok.

"You know," Said Black Widow in a conversational tone, "I don't think we ever got introduced. I'm Nat."

"It's- uh- it's nice to meet you. I saw you in Germany, but- well- we didn't exactly meet, then." He broke off with an awkward chuckle. Peter was dying inside as he listened to himself stutter pathetically in front of the actual _Black Widow._ Or, Nat. But still. She was _so cool, _and she probably thought he was a moron. Luckily, she didn't give him much chance to wallow in self pity before she attacked him with yet another casual question.

"How did you get here then?"

That was a good question. It made Peter pause for a moment as he tried to think. How _had _he got there?

"I'm not really sure." He said thoughtfully. "I mean, I used the infinity gauntlet if that's what you meant. Honestly I thought that would kill me. Are we- are we dead? Is this some kind of... purgatory or something?" He looked at her in shock. "Are you ok, did- did something happen to you? Can I help?"

Nat stared at him with a curiously intense expression in her eyes. "You used the infinity gauntlet?" She said softly. Peter nodded cautiously. "Yeah. It hurt."

"Did we win?" She asked. Her words were calm but behind her eyes Peter could see a storm of emotions. Grief, fear, and hope.

"Yes." he said, and the storm abated.

"So..." Peter ventured, "if you don't mind me asking...why are you here? And what is 'here' anyway?"

Nat shrugged. "Beats me. It's not like I was expecting white clouds and angels, but this is... strange. And as for why I'm here... well," she grinned wryly at him, "I suspect it's for the same reason as you, spiderling. The things we do for love." Then her face fell as she realised what she had said. "Why did you do it? I'm not saying you're not brave, but... _how _did you do it? I would have thought Tony would use the infinity gauntlet himself before he'd ever let _you _anywhere near it..."

Peter gulped and looked away. He had never been very good at masking his emotions, and when he saw the look on Nat's face he knew she could see straight through him.

All of a sudden her face became impossibly weary.

"He tried, didn't he." It wasn't a question.

Peter thought about trying to deny it, but he knew it really wasn't any use. He couldn't lie to a trained spy, after all. And he was probably still too in awe of the Black Widow to attempt it with any semblance of dignity. "I stole it from him." He said after some hesitation.

"Oh, Peter..." she sighed. "Do you know what that will have done to him?"

Peter couldn't stand the pity and disappointment he could hear in her voice, and felt the urge to defend himself. "Well what was I supposed to do!" He exclaimed, crossing his arms and trying his best not to glare at her. "_He _would have died, and at least if I tried there was a _chance. _I have super strength, you know! I mean, it turns out I was wrong, but... well..." he gazed at her and tried to make her understand. "Doctor Strange told me he had a kid."

Nat's brow furrowed in confusion. "Strange told you that?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah, just before Thanos and his army arrived. I just figured..." he took a deep breath, and rubbed the back of his neck. "I just... I couldn't let him throw it all away. It wasn't... _fair." _

Nat's mouth twisted in agreement. "I won't argue with you there, spiderboy. In my experience, fate doesn't deal in _fairness_." She moved towards where Peter was standing, and, quite unexpectedly, placed an arm round his shoulders. He was a little unnerved by being in such close proximity to _the _Black Widow, but after a moment he relaxed and leaned into the half-hug, grateful for the comfort. "You know," she said, pulling away and looking at him earnestly, "I'm sure they're very proud. What you did was incredibly brave." She grinned down at him. "Besides, not many people can say they saved the universe before their 16th birthday."

Peter let out a weak chuckle. "I guess. You think they'll be mad at me?"

Nat actually laughed at that. It was a sound that Peter was almost (almost) surprised to hear from her. "Probably." She said bluntly. "But I think eventually they'll understand." The next words that came from her sounded as though they took considerable effort to form. "I got here through a... similar situation. The soul stone." She clarified, seeing Peters confusion. "It required a sacrifice. Clint has kids too."

"I'm sorry." Said Peter. He didn't know what else he could say. They lapsed into a subdued silence. Peter didn't regret taking the infinity gauntlet. Not even a little bit. When he saw what Tony was about to do he had acted on instinct. It was just like when he had stolen Captain America's shield, and once he had it in his grasp he became even more certain it was the right thing to do. Even _before_ he knew about Tonys' family he's sure he would have done the same thing. And then, once he knew... Peter, better than anyone understood what it was like to grow up without a father. First his dad, then his uncle Ben. He couldn't subject a little girl to that. It changed you, and not necessarily for the better. If he was being totally honest with himself, he was actually a little jealous of her. She had Tony Stark for a dad. No, Peter didn't regret that part. However, he did wish he could have seen May once more. She probably would have yelled, and then she might have cried, but it would have been nice to explain. May deserved that, at least. Peter realised with shame that he had never even told her about Spider-Man. Oh, she would be so, so mad when she found out. He was just imagining the dressing-down she would give Tony when she found out, when Natasha spoke up again.

"You should know," she started, then stopped abruptly. She seemed to fight a brief but intense internal battle before making up her mind. When she did speak, it was carefully measured.

"You should know, that Tony never stopped looking for ways to bring you back. It all but consumed him at first. Damn near killed him. When he found out Pepper was pregnant, I think that saved him. None of us ever expected such a change." She let out a humourless bark of a laugh. "The great Tony Stark, settling down as a family man. He was able to let himself move on a little, I think. Don't get me wrong-" She said hurriedly, glancing down at Peter "he still looked. But he pretended like he wasn't. I think it was easier for everyone that way."

He thought her words were supposed to comfort him, but unfortunately they had the opposite effect. He saw the horrified look Tony gave him when he had stolen the gauntlet, the desperation in his eyes, but he had never imagined it was so bad. He supposed Tony felt responsible for him. Peter's guilt threatened to engulf him when he remembered that moment on the whacked out spacecraft. He had said it was Mr Starks fault and- _oh no. _No wonder Mr Stark felt so guilty. And then Peter had gone and died on him _again. _Now more than ever Peter wished he could go back and explain. Apologise, even. Or maybe just to see them again. Yeah. He thought he could settle for just a glimpse. His distress must have showed on his face, because Nat looked stricken, and tried to comfort him.

"I didn't mean it like that, it wasn't _your _fault. I never- oh _shit, _I'm sorry Peter. I just meant- I thought it might make you feel better to know there were people out there who care about you." She looked anxious, and Peter could tell she meant it. She was still intimidating, but there was an earnestness about her that Peter trusted instinctively. Even on top of the whole assassin thing.

At least he wasn't alone.

"It's ok," he muttered thickly. "I'm sorry, I was just... remembering. Things. It's not on you, I promise. You know, I even- _ARGH!" _The pain was back, and ten times more intense. Peter clawed at his suit, but he couldn't get it off, and it was burning, he was _burning, _what was-

"Peter?" Nat's voice had risen at least an octave in panic. "What's happening? Where does it hurt? Talk to me, spiderling, tell me what's wrong!"

Peter slumped forward involuntarily, and felt her catch him easily. There was pressure on his lungs and it hurt _so bad_ but he managed to choke out "_heart" _and tapped his chest weakly.

"Ok. Ok, you're ok. Come with me, you're ok."

Peter was vaguely aware that he was being moved, but it felt like something was squeezing his heart in an iron grip, and he was lost to the pain.

He wasn't sure how long it took for the pain to subside. He blinked as he saw Nat's head hovering above him. "How do you feel?" She asked, a strange look in her eyes.

Peter pushed himself into an upright position cautiously. He found himself on what appeared to be one of the living room sofas. He took an experimental breath. The majority of the pain had disappeared, but it still felt as though a couple of elephants had taken up temporary residence on his chest.

"Bad." He croaked. He was increasingly puzzled when he saw that Nat looked... pleased?

"Peter," She said, eyes widening, "I wasn't here that long before you turned up, but I had time to test a few things. I can't be hurt." She leant back and spread her arms. "I can't feel pain. Trust me, I tested it. I don't know what I'm doing here, but Peter... I think someone's trying to wake you up."

"You think... I'm alive?" Peter didn't want to hope, he almost didn't dare... but... who was he kidding, it was too late for that. The corners of Nat's eyes creased in a smile, a real, genuine joyful smile, and Peter thought he had never seen anything so beautiful.

"Yes Peter, I think you're alive. Or at least, you could be. The next time you feel the pain starting, just shut your eyes and _go. _Don't fight it."

Peter's emotions were a horrible mix. "If I try..." he stuttered, "if I... go. What will happen to you?"

Nat smirked. "Don't you worry about me, Spiderboy." She reached out and patted his shoulder reassuringly. She winked. "I can take care of myself."

Peter nodded, and tried to look braver than he felt.

It wasn't long before he felt the first shock. At this point he was practically unable to speak, but he looked up at Nat, and attempted to convey something.

"Shhh." She shook her head and helped him lie down, stroking his hair soothingly. "Close your eyes, spiderboy. Close your eyes and _go. _I'm going to be ok."

Beyond the pain, Peter could feel a tugging sensation somewhere in his abdomen, like a strand of webbing reeling him in helplessly. He closed his eyes. He could feel his hair being stroked, and he could faintly hear Nat saying something.

"Do me a favour and say hi to Clint from me, yeah?"

He felt a sharp jerk on the phantom web, and then, darkness.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"_DO IT AGAIN!" _Yelled Doctor Strange at the defeated Doctors and Nurses as they hovered over the boy lying motionless on the bed. "_DO IT AGAIN, HE'S NOT GONE YET." _

When nobody moved, Strange gave a grunt of exasperation and grabbed the defibrillator from the exhausted doctor. The pads were already in position. He turned the dial to the highest setting, and stood clear as the device administered vicious electricity to Peters chest.

The room stood still and horribly silent. Then, with what seemed almost like deliberate dramatic effect, the heart monitor sparked to life, and started beeping steadily.

"Welcome back, Mr Parker." Said Strange.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi again! Currently writing this while getting a tan and dodging mosquitos. Glad to hear you guys enjoyed the last chapter, I'm enjoying writing this so much and I have been so motivated by the amazing reviews I've received. Thank you so much to everyone who has followed, favourited or reviewed. (Or even read, tbh.) **

**Just wanted to answer a couple of questions I have received about the story.**

**Natasha will most likely be staying dead, unless the plot takes a very whacky turn. However, she is such an interesting character to write, so we will probably be seeing more of her one way or the other!**

**There will definitely be more chapters. I have a plot in mind for this story and I'm hoping to keep your attention long enough for it to pan out. However, I do realise the plot isn't moving very fast, so let me know if you want me to speed things up a bit.**

**Anyway, enjoy! **

How many days had it been now? Two? Three? Tony couldn't remember what sleep felt like. He could remember what sleep was, and the theoretical steps involved in _getting _to sleep, but he just couldn't seem to do it. Truth be told, he wasn't sure he wanted to. The hours of uncertainty after Peter had first gone into cardiac arrest had been hell, and sleep was entirely out of the question. For May especially, who, as a nurse, actually knew _how _to help but was unable to do anything. Tony was pretty sure she was awake, but she hadn't spoken since the night before, and although Tony hated to admit it, the kids' unusually attractive aunt wasn't looking so hot. They both needed coffee urgently. Maybe some breakfast too, but that wasn't so important. Tony poked the bags underneath his eyes with trepidation. Yikes. Guess he wasn't looking so hot either. He hadn't even showered since... well, a long time ago anyway. He took an experimental sniff. Oh. Oh, that wasn't good.

Pepper had visited, of course. She had come a few times, but she was at home now, looking after Morgan. She was trying her best. She brought him and May food as she knew neither of them would want to leave, and she was so understanding...except that she didn't understand. Not really. When she came around Tony felt the need to put on a brave face and pretend he was coping, but it exhausted him. When it was just him and May in the waiting room, he was finally able to let his guard drop. May didn't care. She didn't pay him much attention, and frankly she was probably in a worse state than Tony. When Peter was better, Tony wasn't sure May would want anything to do with him. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. He wouldn't blame her, after all, her son was in critical condition in a hospital bed, and Tony had as good as put him there. He wouldn't blame May, but it would definitely be much harder to spend time with Peter if he had to somehow avoid May while he was at it. Maybe if Peter came to visit by the lake... yeah, that was a good idea. Tony found himself smiling as he imagined Peters' reaction to the rustic wooden house. The spiderling would have a field day with all the trees around for swinging. He could even bring his friend, his 'man in the seat' Tony thought Peter had called him. And he could meet Morgan, maybe even get to know Pepper a little better! Tony allowed his imagination to run wild as he thought about all the things he and Peter would do once he was better. He would make sure he got to know the other Avengers better for sure. Train him properly, and let him help upgrade the suit. Tony would make that suit the strongest, lightest, and above all _safest _suit in the galaxy. He deeply regretted keeping Peter at such a distance before. Peter had been so eager and open, and yes, he could be somewhat over-exuberant... but he was also smart and brave and kind, and Tony hadn't appreciated the kid while he had him. So much wasted time was spent pushing him away, and _still _Peter had somehow lodged himself somewhere deep in Tonys' heart. That part of his heart had been dark and dusty from disuse. Who knows, maybe the kid was just attracted to the cobwebs.

The constant grumbling of Tonys' stomach had become unbearable. There had been no info on Peter lately, so he figured a half hour break would probably be ok. If he thought too much about it he'd end up worrying and then he'd never go get coffee, and it would turn out to be a whole thing, so he bit the bullet, stood up, and left. He glanced back at one point, not hesitating of course, just to see if May would like him to bring her anything back. However, May appeared to be trying to get a bit of rest. Her forehead was still creased with worry lines, but her mouth had slackened and her chest rose and fell slowly. Tony decided not to disturb her.

.

.

.

"_These _are supposed to be scrambled eggs?" Remarked Tony to no one in particular as he surveyed the greyish lumps on his plate with considerable distaste. "Nobody said the food had to be good, but these 'eggs' appear to be annihilated. Possibly by nuclear warfare." He looked up, and was met with an icy glare from the serving lady. "I mean," he flashed his most charming grin "I hear _deconstructed _food is all the rage right now." Putting down a 50 dollar bill, he sped away, chucking the 'eggs' in the bin as he did so. He didn't want eggs anyway. He wanted a large cappuccino.

The lady in Starbucks didn't appear to recognise Tony. She did wrinkle her nose slightly at the stale odour permeating the air, but smiled politely when he got to the front of the queue and greeted him cheerily. "Two cappuccinos, one double espresso, and two croissants. Please." said Tony. He was trying hard to be nicer to people. Partially due to Pepper, but mainly to set a good example for Morgan. She didn't really understand the concept of money yet, but she was learning fast, and Tony was determined not to let her turn out the way he had. The very thought of it made him nauseous. Better not to think of it at all, actually. He grabbed the drinks and pastries and skidaddled.

The rush of caffeine after chugging the double espresso didn't take long to kick in. Tony swayed a little, light headed from lack of sleep and food. Then the familiar buzz was kicking through his veins, and he was almost back to feeling like himself. A very hungry version of himself. He bit a large chunk out of one of the croissants, and carefully balanced the drinks in one arm as he checked his watch. The expensive platinum hands told him it was 8:32, and he drummed his fingers against the coffee in annoyance. May was a dragon in the morning, or so he'd heard many times from the kid, and if the kids' babbling held any truth then Tony certainly didn't want to be the one to wake her up. He decided to wait until nine o'clock before risking it. He wandered about the floor, leaving a trail of crumbs in his wake as he munched on the croissant. A small store window jumped out at him as he searched for a distraction. It was the hospital gift shop, and Tony sauntered in casually. He wasn't planning on buying anything, it was all cheap knick-knacks and chocolate bars, but as he was passing a display of gift cards, one caught his eye. It was brightly coloured and garish, both concepts Tony tended to dabble in, to Peppers' constant irritation. The card featured stylised drawings of all the avengers, including; Rogers in all his patriotic glory, Tony levitating to the left, Natasha, Clint, Sam, even an unusually smiley Hulk. Beneath all the little figures were bold rainbow letters, spelling out 'You're my favourite superhero!'

Tony scoffed. It was a ridiculous card, they hadn't even bothered to draw his repulsors correctly. Just ridiculous. Two minutes later, Tony exited the little shop. The croissant and cappuccinos were balanced precariously in one arm, while the left clutched a nondescript white envelope. The sort you might put a greetings card in.

Tony stepped out of the lift, and strode off in the direction of Peters room. He'd had him moved to the best room in the hospital. Not that the boy himself was aware of it, but still. What good was money if you couldn't use it to help the people you loved? Tony chuckled as he listened to his own thoughts. It had been years since he'd given up his playboy ways, but somehow his own sentimentality never ceased to amaze him. Maybe he was just getting old. Still, if recent events had taught him anything, it was not to hold back when it came to the people you loved. Peter didn't deserve a selfish, standoffish mentor, he deserved someone who gave as much as he received, someone to rely on. Once the kid was out of hospital, Tony would do his best to fill that role. If that was what Peter wanted, of course. And it was definitely going to be harder with him, considering he was so much older than Morgan, and then of course who knew what-

Just breathe, he reminded himself. Remember those relaxation techniques you learned at Peppers mother-and-baby classes. Calm it. There will be plenty of time to figure things out once the spiderling decides to wake up.

When Tony finally reached Peters' room, he was startled to see May exiting the room. But the doctors hadn't let them in yet... did that mean? Tony's brain kicked into overdrive and his heart joined in as he imagined every scenario. Maybe the kid had woken up, that was good, that was _great_, and that was probably what had happened, but maybe it wasn't good, maybe something had gone wrong, maybe-

May's eyes widened almost imperceptibly when she saw Tony. "Oh." She said, her face guarded. "I thought you'd gone home."

"Coffee run." Said Tony, holding out a cup to her to illustrate his point. "Here."

May took it, bringing it to her chest slowly. "Thank you." A small, strained smile found its way into her face. It only lasted the briefest of moments before disappearing. Her behaviour was confusing, and Tony wasn't sure whether to be worried or not. He was afraid to ask, but his face must have been showing something of what he felt, because May started, as if she had just remembered something, and said "Oh! He's stable. They're saying he's out of the woods now." The strange look in her eyes was gone, and Tony saw pure joy in her eyes when she smiled weakly at him. "I can't quite believe it's real!"

Tony knew exactly what she meant. Suddenly his knees were weak, and all the pain from his injuries seemed to melt away. He felt like a new man, and it was almost too good to be true. He didn't know what he of all people had ever done to deserve such mercy, but he prayed to every god he had ever heard of in fervent thanks. His kid was going to _live. _Tony would help him live the very best life. He'd give Peter the world if he asked, and his was only increased by knowing that Peter would never ask.

"Can I see him?" he asked. May had just come out, so they must have been allowing visitors, but he wasn't strictly family. He supposed that's why May hesitated before answering.

"He's sleeping right now."

Tony felt his face fall, try as he might to control it. It's fine, he told himself. He's alive, and he's stable, and that's all you can ask for. "Sure," He said, and tried to sound upbeat. "Sure, no problem. I'm just glad he's ok. Its fantastic news, May." He rolled his shoulders back, and settled down in an uncomfortable chair yet again. May looked horrified.

"You're not staying?" She asked.

Tony stared at her. "Well, just until he wakes up again. Is- is that ok? If he needs peace and quiet, I can go, or-"

"Well-" his disjointed monologue was interrupted by May. She frowned at him for a moment as if wrestling with an uncomfortable decision, then continued. "Just for five minutes then. But try not to wake him up. I don't want him getting overtired."

Tony leapt up, all weariness vanished. "_Thank you _May. I'll be quiet, I promise. I just want to see him." She nodded stiffly, and moved away from the door.

He gripped the door handle lightly, and with utmost care, pushed it open. The room was white, and clinically cold, and- there he was.

His first instinct on seeing the boy was to rush to help him. Tony knew the strength that Spider-Man possessed, but it was Peter Parker lying in the bed not Spider-Man , and he looked so small. The whirring machines sticking out of him seemed so _wrong, _and Tony had to fight the impulse to rip them out. He moved towards the bed, treading as lightly as he could. Peter's eyes were closed and he was so still that Tony would have been afraid, were it not for the steady rise and fall of his chest. That small motion was like a balm to Tony's own heart, and he felt his anxiety lessen with each breath. Tony reached out absentmindedly to brush his had through the stray curls that rested on Peters forehead, but pulled away at the last minute for fear of waking him.

"Hi, kiddo." He whispered faintly. "Glad to see you joined the party at last. Really had me worried there." He paused, and he knew Peter couldn't hear him, but he had to say something, just in case. The words didn't come easily, but he supposed this was the first step towards becoming a better Tony. "We'll have this conversation again Pete, hopefully when you're a bit more awake. I'll lecture you properly, no doubt with help from aunt hottie, but for now... I just want to say thank you. And I'm sorry. _I'm so sorry. _This was never your burden to bear, but you did it anyway, and- and you're the best of us all, kid. You did good. Better than good. Hell, kid, when the world finds out- but I shouldn't feed your ego too much. Plenty of time for that." He reached down, and gingerly patted the boys shoulder. "See you soon, kid."

When he left the room, inching the door closed behind him, he wasn't surprised to see May waiting for him. He held up a hand. "Don't worry, kid's fine. Sleeping like the dead." He blinked. "Sorry. Poor choice of words, I know, but you get the general-"

"Tony." May had cut him off. She was twisting her hands nervously, and something in Tony grew suspicious. His body automatically grew tense.

"Tony," May repeated, almost as if she was working up the courage for something. Tony's sense of dread increased. She levelled her gaze at him, and it was steely.

"I think it's best if you don't see Peter anymore."

Tony felt as though all the wind had been knocked out of him. He was so confused, and all he could manage was a bemused "excuse me?"

Mays expression grew angry now, and Tony flinched. "_I want you out of his life_!" She hissed. Tony got the impression she would be yelling if it weren't for the sleeping boy next door.

"You're no good for him. All he ever wants is to please you, you and your stupid, _stupid _avengers, and look where it's got him! You drag him time after time into fights when he- he should be at school, or at parties, not fighting intergalactic monsters on some godforsaken planet." Her voice hitched and she was sobbing now, the words coming out in vicious torrents. Tony could only gaze as they washed over him, replacing his blood with ice.

"He's _sixteen." _She cried, and her eyes were pleading now. "_Sixteen years old_, and he's already died twice for you Tony. Isn't that enough? Can't you see you're killing him?" Her words trailed off at the end, and she swiped at her eyes angrily, but Tony could only stare in horror because... she was right. What was he _thinking _trying to push himself back into Peters' life? He didn't deserve any part in it, it was his fault. All of it. As if Peter would even want to see him! Tony could taste blood in his mouth, and he had to get out- he had to get out of here before he caused any more damage. "I'm sorry." He muttered jerkily, grabbing his things from where they rested on the floor. "I'm sorry, you're right, of course- I'll- I'll leave. I'm going, I'll leave. I'm sorry." He glanced at May, but her back was turned and her shoulders were shaking. Without another word, Tony walked away, leaving the faint sounds of crying behind him.

**A/N. Now, I know this is cruel, but don't get me wrong, I absolutely adore May. She is NOT a villain in this story, she just wants to protect her boy. Back with another chapter soon. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi, back again. Trying to pick the pace up on this story. Rest assured, we will be seeing more of our favourite avengers very soon. Also, quick question. I know AC/DC is Tony's thing, but am I the only one who is annoyed that they haven't used thunderstruck at least once for Thor? Anyone? This is actually an edited version of chapter six as I had an excellent and very helpful review from Oriande Moonshadow that pointed out I had completely glossed over Peter's injuries. Hope this chap is better, but please let me know if I can improve the plot or my writing for you guys. All feedback is welcome.**

**Enjoy!**

The first thing Peter was aware of was a steady beeping off to his left somewhere. Was it that time already? Instinctively he stretched out his arm to try and silence the alarm clock, but was stopped short by an uncomfortable tugging sensation in his arm. He opened his eyes, which were heavy and stuck together with grit. How long had he been asleep? It was only when he saw the large life support machines looking over his bedside, and the wires sticking out across his body that he realised where he must be. His chest was aching, so he gave up the attempt at moving and fell back onto the bed. Where had he- _oh. _Nat. Sadness washed over him as he remembered the woman who had helped him. He wanted to know if she was alright. Just as he was debating whether to make another attempt at sitting up, the door swung open, and May walked in, clutching a book in one hand and a large bag in the other. Both clattered to the floor as she saw Peter was awake, rushing forward with a frenzied shriek, and hugging him as tightly as she could, while trying to avoid the right hand side of his body, which was heavily bandaged. It made things rather difficult. "Hi, baby." She mumbled into his hair.

Peter coughed slightly at the sudden pressure on his chest, but managed to croak out "Hey, May."

She pulled away and smiled down at him, combing her fingers through her hair. "How do you feel, sweetie?"

"Like the Hulk used me as a punch bag."

She laughed, but Peter could see how tired she looked. It just made him feel even more guilty. "May...I'm sorry. I had to do it." He wouldn't change a thing, but he knew he owed May an apology. She looked away, and a muscle twitched in her jaw somewhere, but when she looked back, her expression was a surprising mixture of resignation and fondness.

"I know, Peter. For the longest time I had no idea about any of this, and I won't lie, that hurt. But I've had some time to think, and I understand why you didn't tell me. We'll figure this out. But for now, all you need to do is work on getting better." She squeezed his hand, and Peter was able to relax. He was so glad to be back.

The next couple of days were monotonous, and more than a little lonely. May dropped in as often as she could, but the world was in turmoil after half of its population had miraculously returned from the dead, and things were busy. At least, that's what Peter told himself when days went by and Mr Stark didn't show. Bruce had popped in. That had been nice, he had given Peter some of the latest science journals and adjusted his meds to better suit Peter's metabolism. They had had a chat, and Peter was managing to get over his awe of the cool new Hulk/Bruce. Doctor Strange had come. That had been... well, strange, actually. The doctor hadn't stayed long before jumping through a portal back to London, or wherever he was staying. Ned had visited, and after the first (slightly tear filled) hug, for a blissful few hours Peter had felt like his old self. But Ned was gone now, and Peter was almost ready to leave the hospital. His advanced healing factor has sped the process up considerably, though the extent of the burns to his right arm had rendered it practically useless, and it was still stuck in a sling. Peter was hopeful his healing would sort things out, and if not... well, that was a thought fo another day. But at least he could walk, and he was just itching to get out of bed. Who knew what was happening to Queens now that Spiderman was out of commission? _And his schoolwork. _The thought of everything he would have to catch up with was almost more scary than any lowlife hanging about in back-alleys. He was supposed to be checking out tomorrow morning. Twisting the sheets between his fingers, he tried to convince himself that Tony was just too busy. After all, he reasoned, the Avengers would be responsible for _so _much of the damage that had been done, and Mr Stark was probably having to foot the bill for the whole thing. He probably wanted to come visit Peter but he was just waiting until he got out of hospital so he wouldn't be recognised! Yeah. That would be the reason, Peter told himself, and tried his best to ignore the nagging thoughts in the back of his mind, telling him that Tony had forgotten about him. That he was sitting at home with his perfect family, and congratulating himself on another hard won victory. Or worse, that he knew exactly where Peter was and he just _didn't care. _Peter was doing a really good job of shutting that voice out. But it was harder at night, when he had nothing to do but stare at the ceiling and wait for the next day.

He left hospital the next morning in new clothes. He supposed May had taken his Spidersuit home, or maybe Mr Stark had it... he secretly hoped it was the latter, just so he'd have an excuse to turn up at Stark Tower. May hovered nervously as he took his first steps outside, even offering him an arm to lean on, but Peter laughed it off, breathing in the familiar smells of petrol and street food. He was free! He had so many plans, and he couldn't wait to see all the avengers soon. He was certain they wouldn't wait long to invite him round. Peter left hospital feeling _good. _At least, he was trying.

...

"Tony?" There was a knock on the door, and he could hear Pepper's sigh of frustration when he didn't answer. "Tony, are you coming for lunch?"

The man in question put down the project he was tinkering with and pushed up his welding goggles. "Sure. Down in a sec."

"Ok. Don't be long though, it's getting cold." Peppers' footsteps faded as she walked away from the lab.

Despite the warning, Tony sat for a minute, staring into space. Then he pushed his chair back and left the room, locking the door behind him.

"So," said Pepper, dishing out salad despite Tony's protests, "how's Peter doing? I heard from Bruce that he's getting out of hospital soon."

Tony was taken aback by her question, and shoved a forkful of salad into his mouth to stall. He chewed slowly, then swallowed. "He's... doing good. You know the kid, won't stop talking about everything he's gonna do when he gets out." He looked up, meeting Peppers eye nervously. This was the kicker. "We... we've decided he's going to give the Spider-Man thing a rest for a while. Focus on his schoolwork, social life, you know, normal sixteen-year-old things." He hopes she bought it.

Pepper nodded thoughtfully and smiled brightly at Tony, which created a lovely jab of guilt in his gut. "I think that's a great idea," she said, "he's still too young for such responsibility. You should invite him here!" She exclaimed excitedly. "Oh Tony, I'd love for him to visit. You two could go fishing." Pepper seemed honestly pleased at the prospect, and Tony's heart sank. He couldn't go on like this. He had made up his mind to tell her the truth, when a small voice came from the end of the table.

"Who's Peter?" Morgan was looking at her dad wide eyed, and Tony had to take a moment to think. Who was Peter, really? That was a loaded question. Eventually he knew he had to answer her, so he said "Well, honey... Peter is my intern. That's a young person who helps me out at work."

Morgan eyed him dubiously. "But you don't go to work." She said, with classic Stark sass. Tony wasn't sure whether to be proud or worried. "Of course Daddy works!" He chuckled. "But a long time ago, before _you_ came along, Daddy worked at a big company in New York. Peter used to help me out." He cleared his throat. "He doesn't do that anymore though." Forcing his face to take on a cheery grin, he said "Maybe when you grow up you'll be an inventor just like me, huh kiddo?"

Pepper gasped in mock horror. "Don't you dare put ideas into our five year olds' head, Tony!" Morgan giggled at that, and they settled down to one of the family lunches that had become a quintessential part of Tony's life.

Later on, Tony was washing dishes. Morgan was helping, but in reality, 'helping' meant running about with the dish soap pretending to blast imaginary aliens. He found himself zoning out as he went through the motions. Dunk, scrub, dry, repeat. Dunk, scrub, dry, repeat. Just then, he was interrupted from his reverie by a small hand pulling the bottom of his shirt. He looked down to see Morgan gazing up at him with an unusually serious expression on her little face. "Daddy..." she began, and Tony felt a little twinge of worry. "Yeah, honey?" He asked, crouching down to be closer to her eye level. She fidgeted with the dish soap for a moment. "Why did you get so sad when you talked about your friend Peter?"

"Come here, kiddo." Tony said, scooping her up and walking over to the sofa, where he plunked them both down unceremoniously. Morgan wriggled away, but didn't go far, choosing instead to curl up at his side where she could see him better. Tony pondered for a minute before deciding how best to reply. "I think you'd like Peter, kiddo. He's very kind, and smart. He's been in hospital, and that's why I looked a bit sad, ok? But I hope you'll get to meet him one day."

Morgan considered his words before pronouncing her judgement. "He sounds nice." She bounces up and locked her arms around Tony's neck in a surprisingly strong grip. "I hope he gets better soon." Then, in the inconceivably energetic way of all five year olds, she hopped off the sofa and ran away, probably off looking for leprechauns to blast or something. Tony watched her go, and for the first time in days, things didn't feel entirely hopeless. He climbed the stairs to his lab. It was compact but functional, and was heavily secured to prevent Morgan getting in, just in case. It was currently housing many projects, but only one was currently being worked on. Tony looked at Peters' spider-suit for a long minute, before sitting down, and pulling down his goggles.

...

It was Monday. Just under a week since Peter had got out of hospital, and not a single word from any of the avengers. Peter slammed his locker door much harder than he had meant to. Something inside crunched, and innocent bystanders edged away just slightly.

"Dude!" said Ned, eyeing Peter with worry and just a tinge of awe. "You ok? I mean, apart from the whole near-death thing. Which is awesome, by the way, but sooo terrifying, and you are never doing it again ok?"

"That's the point!" Exclaimed Peter angrily, swinging his bag onto his shoulder with more force than was strictly necessary, jostling his damaged arm and making pain shoot over his shoulder. That did nothing to help his bad mood. "Apparently, I _am _never doing it again! None of it! No patrolling, no fighting, _no more spiderman." _He hissed the last part, lowering his voice to prevent anyone nearby from hearing. "May has completely forbidden it, and this time she's not backing down. I don't even have my suit." He muttered, scuffing his toes along the ground. The worst part was, he couldn't even argue with May about it. Not yet at least. He had tried, but then she got all tears, and how was he supposed to fight that? He felt guilty enough already.

Ned scrunched up his nose. "But aren't you like, cool with Mr Stark? Can't you just ask him for a new suit? I mean you did save his life and all, it's the least he can-"

"I don't want to talk about it." said Peter. Then, "_I don't want to talk about it." _he repeated when Ned seemed about to argue. It was sort of true. He didn't want to talk about it. He just wanted Tony to turn up and apologise.

"Ok, man." Ned said, a little disappointed. Then, he seemed to have some exciting news. Peter could always tell when Ned had something to say because he started bouncing just a little on the balls of his feet. It was barely noticeable, but Peters spidey senses picked up on it easily. "What is it?" He asked.

Ned beamed at him, before blurting out "Flash is having another party, and we're invited!."

Peter stared at him in dismay. "Oh dude, I don't know... so soon, after everything that's happened?"

Ned shrugged. "He says it's just what everyone needs. A sort of 'welcome back' party for everyone that got ashed, plus to get to know the new kids in our year. So weird to think to think that if things had been different we'd be in _college _now."

Peter nodded absentmindedly. He was still wary of parties, especially considering how the last one had turned out. But something inside him wanted to go anyway, just to show May he still had a life of his own. It was a vindictive thought, but right now, Peter didn't care.

"Sure, man." He nodded, uncertainly at first but then more decisively.

"Sounds great."


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi, guys. May I just say how sorry I am for the abominably long wait. This chapter has been in the works for a while, but I've just been ridiculously busy with school and extracurriculars. ****Also, I've decided what is the point in fan fiction if we can't write the happy endings we want? So, I've decided to change up Nat's story line a bit. Work in progress, people. Also some Tony and Peter interaction coming up in the chapter after this. Sorry again, and please, enjoy. **

Peter scanned the area, yawning. His right arm was immobile in its sling but the left was worrying at the hem of his sleeve in a constant ritualistic motion. All he could see was rubble. He supposed that with the world in a state of blissful confusion after the second snap, nobody had time to bother cleaning up the crater that used to be the avengers compound. There was a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't quite place. The last time he had been here... things hadn't gone so well. If he closed his eyes he could still see the look on Tony's face when he had stolen the infinity gauntlet. Peter thought he'd looked scared. And he knew it was awful to feel like this, but it had made him feel better to think that Tony might miss him when he was gone. When the flames had scorched a path across his chest and the pain had threatened to take over it had helped to make it all seem worth he wasn't sure any more. He was alive, but he was crippled, and Tony Stark the great and powerful hadn't bothered to show his face. Peter kicked viciously at a nearby stone. He used more force than he had meant to, and the stone soared across the battlefield.

"That rock do something I should know about?"

Peter wheeled around in alarm, which rapidly shifted to anxiety when he saw who it was. "Hawkeye! Uh, I'm sorry, Mr Barton? Right on time!...Hah, you made me jump. Not used to people sneaking up on me. Not that you're not a good sneaker! It's just kinda hard to do cause, you know" he tapped the side of his head, "spidey senses." Hawkeye grinned, and Peter cursed himself for using the words 'spidey senses.'

"I guess I've just had a lot of practice." said Hawkeye. "And you can call me Clint, you know."

Peter nodded. Silence hung heavy in the air between them. Clint stared at Peter expectantly, and Peter stared back.

"Son... is everything ok? I thought when I got your message that this had something to do with Tony, but I didn't know why he couldn't just call me himself. I was surprised when you contacted me. And I'm _still _not sure how you got my number in the first place..."

Peter tried his best to keep a poker face, but judging by the look on Hawkeyes' face it was coming off sheepish.

"Hmm. That's what I thought." Peter couldn't read the look on Hawkeyes face and it was making him nervous.

"So... why _am _I here? Not that I'm not happy to help!" He added hastily. "I was just surprised." He chuckled. "I can't believe Tony let you out of his sight long enough to arrange a meeting with me."

Peter paused. He was practically itching to ask, but he was a little scared of what he'd hear. "You... you've seen Tony recently?"

Clints' eyes widened. "So Tony's missing? Damn it Pete, how long have you known about this? I better contact the others. You did the right thing contacting me." He began fumbling for his cellphone.

"No!" Peter backtracked hastily. "No. Um, Tony's fine. I think. I just-" his gaze shifted to the ground "just haven't seen him lately." Clints' face took on a decidedly suspicious cast.

"Kid, I have three young children. I know when there's more to a story. What's Tony done now? I swear if he's pulling some shit we can talk him out of it. Is that what this is about? But whatever it is, I'm sure he means well, you know. He really cares about you." Clint put a hand on Peters' undamaged shoulder and it took all of his willpower not to pull away. That would have been rude. Some unnamed but unpleasantly violent emotions were threatening to rise up, and Peter could feel his heart rate accelerating and his spidey senses beginning to overload. Tony was the last person he wanted to think about right now, and there was something so reassuring and, well, _fatherly _about Clint that made Peter want to spill everything right there and then. Still, that wasn't what he was here for. For a moment Peter debated whether this had been the right thing to do. The last thing he wanted to do was reopen old wounds, but he knew what he would want if he was in the same situation. He forced himself to meet Clints' eyes.

"Actually... this has nothing to do with Tony. It's about Nat."

At this, Clint froze. His hand still rested on Peters shoulder, but for a moment it tensed in a vice like grip before relaxing. He removed it, and looked away, before bringing his gaze back to Peter, who shifted uneasily. Something about the vulnerability he saw in Clints' face unnerved him, but when he looked back a moment later it was gone.

"I didn't realise you knew her." The tone was faintly curious, almost flippant, yet the words were just a little too measured.

"I don't!" Exclaimed Peter. "Well, actually- I suppose I- it's not- I-" the words were practically tangling themselves into sailors knots and he took a deep breath. It was now or never. He began to talk, and now the knots untangled and the words flowed in a smooth unbroken stream.

"I died. After using the infinity gauntlet I guess my heart gave out? I'm not actually sure, to be totally honest with you Mr- uh, Clint, after all I wasn't exactly awake to find out, and then May wouldn't tell me much, but-"

He saw the look on Clints' face and cut to the chase. "Anyway... something happened, and I ended up in the same place as Nat."

A strange sort of frenzied look had taken over Clints' face. "...What do you mean, Peter?"

"I mean... I- I don't know what I mean, I mean, I guess- it was the avengers compound? But, not blown up. And I was there, and Nat was there, and, we talked, and then I kept getting this pain that _totally _sucked, so Nat told me to close my eyes and let go, and... and I did."

Peter began to panic as he saw the skin around Clints' eyes tighten almost imperceptibly. "I swear I didn't mean to leave her there! I didn't want to! I just- well it really hurt, ok? And she was so nice, and-"

"Hey!" Peter was knocked out of his guilt spiral by a hand patting his shoulder gently. "Hey, Pete, it's ok."

To his surprise, Clint was smiling? Sure, it looked a little forced, but he genuinely didn't seem angry. Peter didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but as usual his own mouth didn't listen.

"You're not... angry?"

Clint looked affronted. "Angry? Peter, I'm still not one hundred percent sure what's happened here, but I'm certainly not angry with you! Jesus, kid, you saved the world!" He sighed. "If anything, you should be angry at us. You should never have even been on that battlefield."

Peter shrugged. "Guess its a good thing I was." Clint just stared at him, and a soft "hmph" that could have been agreement left his mouth.

"She- Nat- asked me to say hi to you." Said Peter. "Sorry for dragging you out here, I just wasn't sure... when I'd see any of you again." He wanted desperately to ask '_where are the other avengers?' 'Is there even such a thing as avengers?' 'Why hasn't Mr Stark come to see me?' _

But there was something going on behind Clints' eyes that stopped him.

The archer was incredibly still.

"Peter. Tell me, please- and I know this is a strange question, but _please _try to think hard. If you can remember, tell me- was anything... yellow?"

Peter froze. Yellow? Why should anything be yellow? The sun? Nat's hair? No, she wasn't blonde anymore... Tonys sunglasses? He racked his brains for a possible solution. The peanut butter! No, no, that's so _stupid. _At a loss for what to do, and feeling the pressure mounting, he closed his eyes and tried to think back to the strange, trance like encounter. It was like trying to remember a dream. Looking back, everything seemed... tinged, somehow. Like an old sepia photograph, yellowed with age, and-

_yellow. _

"The light!" He exclaimed, eyes snapping open and meeting Clints in excitement. "The light, everything was _yellow, _like, like looking through tinted sunglasses. Does that mean anything?"

"I'm not sure." muttered Clint distractedly. "I hope so." He turned away from Peter as if to walk away. "I have to go find a wizard."

Just as Peter thought Clint was going to walk away, he turned. "Peter... thank you. I have to go now, but if you ever need anything... well," he winked "I know you've got my number. You ok getting back home?"

"Yeah. Thanks." Clint nodded, and began to walk away. Peter called out "Good luck!" And Clint raised a hand in reply. Then he was gone, and Peter was once again stood alone on the battlefield. He tried to raise his right arm to check the time, remembering too late his injury, and flinching as the muscle spasmed. He swallowed hard before raising his left wrist. It was only 12:45. His bus wasn't for another hour or so, though he'd need to walk for at least half an hour before reaching the station. He began picking his way aimlessly through the rubble, stepping over random artefacts as he went. There were twisted scraps of metal, items he was sure weren't from earth, and some particularly stylish weapons he was sure were from Wakanda. Then, he saw it. An area almost untouched by rubble, yet on one far side was a patch of blackened earth. Peter's arm began to ache. Clambering over the few nearby boulders with what felt like none of his former grace, he approached. As he made his way over to the scorch mark he found himself once again questioning his motives for stealing the infinity gauntlet. At the time it had all seemed so simple... he had thought he was doing it to save everyone who had been on the wrong side of the snap. He had thought he was doing it to give Tony a chance at a good life with his family. But now he wondered if deep down, he was just showing off. Just wanting to be a hero. Wanting to impress the avengers and show his worth. An uncomfortable wave of self loathing forced its way up his throat, and suddenly he couldn't go any further. He turned away and began the long walk back.

By the time he got home it was gone five o' clock. The bus ride had been torture. If there was one thing Peter couldn't _stand _it was pity. He'd had enough of it throughout his life, after his parents died, and then Ben, not to mention the stares he used to get whenever Flash was up to his usual shit. Yet somehow this was worse. He probably could have coped with the strangers on the bus that ogled his burnt arm of there stares were merely curious. Even if there was malice there, at least then he could have done something about it. But it was worse, it was _pity, _and it made every inch of Peter's skin crawl. He was so relieved when the bus reached Queens, and he was able to finally get out of there. He climbed the stairs to his apartment slowly. He was pretty hungry. Breakfast had been a hastily grabbed banana, and lunch just hadn't taken place. The nerves of meeting Hawkeye had suppressed his appetite for a while, but it was back full force. He pushed the key into the lock and twisted.

"Peter!"

May was standing in the living room, phone in hand, and looked livid. "Where were you! I've been calling for hours! I mean I _know _you've been sulking lately but seriously? You couldn't pick up the phone just to let me know you were safe?"

"_Sulking?" _Replied Peter. The fierceness of his tone surprised him. He and May rarely fought, and she must have sensed she'd crossed a line because she swallowed and said

"Peter I'm sorry. I've just been worried. You-" she cut off as Peter plodded past, holding up his phone to show her the screen. "Went out of battery." He said impassively, and closed the door as he entered his room. He moved over to the bed and plugged his phone in to charge. After a few minutes it buzzed on, and Peter was surprised to see text messages from various people, as well as a couple of voicemails from Ned. He checked the texts first.

**May, 13:22: Hi Peter, just wondering where you are. Everything ok? Xxx**

**May, 14:10: Can you at least tell me if you'll be back for dinner? Xxx**

**May, 16:00: Peter will you pick up the phone please? I just want to know you're safe. X**

**May, 16:55: PETER PARKER PICK UP YOUR PHONE RIGHT NOW. **

He deleted those. There was only one other text, and he was more than a little surprised when he saw who it was.

**Hawkeye, 14:32: **

**Hi Peter, sorry for leaving abruptly like that. Hope you got home ok. Just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate what you've done for me. If there's ever anything you need (or anything that Tony can't do) please don't hesitate to contact me. See you later,**

**Clint**

Well, that was unexpected. Peter pushed down the warm feeling that threatened to rise up, reminding himself that adults rarely did anything they said they would. Except for May, of course. Usually. He moved on to the voicemails. Some were from May, he deleted those, not feeling the need to put himself through more guilt. Instead he opened the ones from Ned.

**Ned: Dude, where are you? You were supposed to be coming round to mine before Flash's party remember? Unless it's SpiderMan stuff! Is it? Hey, do you need a guy in the chair? Anyway man, I guess I'll see you later. Or not. Bye! Live long and prosper! But seriously, please come, I need backup. **

The rest of the messages pretty much followed that vibe. Peter sank back onto his pillow, exhausted. He _really _didn't want to go to Flash's party, but he didn't want to stay at home either. And, he reasoned, it was probably a good idea to try and get to know some of the new people in his year. He ignored the rumblings of his stomach. After all, there would be food at the party, right?

"Peter?" Called May from the kitchen, where it smelled like something was being methodically charred. "Are you going out again?"

Peter paused, his hand on the latch. "Um... yeah." He replied, coughing slightly. "I'm... going to Neds. Probably going to stay the night. " Before May could come out from the kitchen and question him he slipped out the door and left.

When he got to the party it was already in full swing. Music was playing through invisible speakers somewhere, ridiculously heavy bass thumping through the ground. Peter pushes his way through the throng of people, wincing whenever someone jostled his sling. There were clouds of smoke hovering in the air and he was pretty sure if someone sprang a surprise drug test on him he would fail. After making it through the crowd he found himself in the kitchen, where it was mercifully cool, and leaned back against the sideboard. Didn't look as if he'd be getting to know anyone tonight. Someone came through the door.

"YO PARKERRRRR" yelled an obviously wasted Flash, staggering into the kitchen with a bottle of... something... in his hand. "Hahahah *hic* Parker this is wild..." Flash stumbled over to Peter and slung an arm around his shoulder. Peter almost reeled back in shock. Flash must have been really drunk to be this... friendly. "Aww man, how've you been! Haven't seen you n ... forever. Gotta... gotta catch up..." Flash's face then began to take on a disturbing green hue, and he muttered "soon" before shoving his drink in Peters hand and staggering away with his hand over his mouth. Peter eyed the drink suspiciously. He wanted food more than anything, but he was pretty thirsty. He took an experimental sip, then another. After the first few mouthfuls he found it went down much easier, and before long he had downed the bottle, and was off in search of another. The funny thing was, the more he drank, the less he cared about anything. He decided to play a little drinking game. Every time he thought about Tony, he took a gulp. And with every gulp he grew happier and happier! Why had he never tried this before? It was fantastic! So, he drank some more. And then more after that. And he let his problems float away.

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Ned... something about Ned... Ned's... hat? Ned's... Death Star? Peter gave up on thoughts as nausea took over his stomach and he heaved. Ugh, he really didn't feel too good. What... time was it? He tried to look around, but everything was blurry and spinning... couldn't it stop spinning, spinning wasn't fun... the music was really messing with his senses... or was it the spinning? He tried to sit down, only to discover he was already on the ground. Peter decided the ground was as good a place to be as any, and surrendered to the blackness that overcame him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi guys, back again! Trying to update more often. I do have plenty of vision for this story, but above all I want to write something worth reading, so any feedback, ideas, and criticism is very welcome. Anyway, enjoy! **

Peter woke to a pounding headache and the feeling of something digging into his neck. Opening his eyes just a crack to avoid the abuse of the weak sunlight, he groaned and curled up on his side in an attempt to shut out the day for just a little longer. Maybe if he closed his eyes just a little tighter... but it was no use. Something was still digging into his neck, and now that he was semi-aware of it, his current position was less than comfortable. With considerable effort he pushed himself up and gazed blearily at the remnants of the party. What a mess. It seemed he had been lucky, ending up slumped against the couch. Some of his peers had been unfortunate enough to end up sleeping on the shiny hardwood floors. Bottles and plastic cups littered the floor. Peter squinted at the window. By the looks of things it was very early. He felt truly awful. His whole body ached, there was a nasty crick in his neck and it tasted like something had died in his mouth. So this was what a hangover felt like. He had always assumed people were exaggerating, but this seemed about right. He wasn't certain, but he thought he had felt better after being crushed by that building the night of homecoming. His memories of the night before were few and far between, and what there was was muddled and distorted. Luckily for him, it didn't look like anyone else was awake to witness his humiliation. He fumbled his way to the hallway, tripping over various items of uncertain origin. There was a pile of jackets on the floor, and after a quick rummage he managed to find his own. _Oh man. _Someone had spilt... beer, by the smell of it, all over the floor, and Peter's jacket had evidently been used to mop it up. He was tempted to leave it, but neither he nor May could really afford a replacement at the moment, so he carried it dangling over his good arm. He tiptoed across the hall as best he could, easing the front door open gently, and slipped out.

He had to put his arm to his eyes, shielding them from the sun which he knew was pretty weak this early, but it felt like his optic nerves were frying. He managed to dig out his phone, shaking off a couple of stray beer droplets, but his heart sank as he saw the flashing icon that meant no charge. Flash's house was way out in the suburbs. Peter had just enough change for a bus, but it wouldn't take him all the way in. The bus driver huffed dramatically when counting up the coins, but Peter was too tired to care. He was able to doze a little on the bus, but before long he had reached the end of the line. Dragging his jacket, he shuffled off the bus like a zombie and braced himself for the long walk home. As he walked, thoughts sprang to the forefront of his mind with no warning. If he was totally honest with himself, lately it was harder and harder to get up in the morning. So much had changed. He walked the halls at school and most of the faces were unfamiliar. He had been lucky, all things considered. He still had Ned. And MJ. Some days he was even grateful for Flash. Then there were those students who just hadn't been able to cope, like Sally Denver. Sally had been brought back when Bruce used the infinity gauntlet. She come back, only to discover that her father had been killed in the invasion, and her mother had killed herself soon after. They never found out what happened to Sally. Peter hadn't known her well, had in fact been in the hospital at the time, but he remembered seeing her win the annual robotics competition two- no, seven years ago. She looked so happy then. The avengers had saved the world, but despite their best efforts the world was different now. And Peter wasn't sure how he felt about that. And on top of everything else his arm was still useless. He'd been going to the hospital for physio twice a week, and doing exercises at home, yet there was hardly any strength in it, and every time he ended up almost in tears through sheer frustration. He wanted nothing more than to get back out on the streets, even if it was just friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man level, but he had a hunch that secretly May wouldn't mind if his arm never healed, and he had to stop being Spiderman for good. It was an ungrateful thought that always made him feel like a piece of crap, so he did his best to suppress it. He- he did his best.

Suddenly a feeling seized Peter, stopping him in his tracks. Oh no. Ohhhh. No. His stomach convulsed and, clutching a hand to his mouth he bolted for the closest alleyway. He barely made it to the gutter in time. Convulsions racked his chest as he heaved his guts up, and even once everything had come out, he gagged for a good 30 seconds.

"Ughhhhh..." he let out a soft moan, and leaned his head against the cool stone of the wall in front of him. It soothed the hammer in the inside of his skull a little. Just then, his spidey senses tingled, and writhing a second he was fully alert. He pushed himself away from the wall and stood still, waiting for the problem to present itself. A faint sound caught his attention.

"_Stop! What are- get OFF!" _Something clattered to the ground. Peter started running towards the sound. His fingers automatically reached for his web shooters, but found nothing. Screw it. He chucked his jacket to the side and increased his speed, ignoring the scar tissue that protested on his chest. With adrenaline already pumping through his bloodstream he felt... _amazing. _

He reached the site of the commotion in no time at all, and peered around the end of the alleyway. A young woman, early twenties maybe, wearing jogging clothes, was pinned against the alley wall by a much larger man. Classic thug type. Peter could have grinned, but didn't, of course. This would be almost too easy! he thought. With an attempt at his usual bravado, he stepped out into view.

"Hey mister! Leave her alone and jog on!"

Not his best work. But hey, so what if he was a little rusty? The large man turned, still holding onto the woman, and for a brief moment looked surprised, before sneering and turning away. Peter was confused. Thugs usually at least tried to fight when they saw Spiderman. Then he remembered, he wasn't Spiderman anymore, just Peter. He realised how he must appear, a bedraggled teenager with one arm in a sling. This shook his confidence, but nevertheless he persisted, sprinting forward, and, as the larger man lunged for him, flipping over the top and landing on the other side, catching the man with a left hook as he spun around. His aim was off, so it didn't have its usual force, and the man was only knocked back a few paces, but it had the desired effect. The man had let go of the woman, who now picked herself up, rubbing at her throat in pain.

"Go!" Grunted Peter as he grappled with the man, using one arm to keep him at bay. The woman seemed disorientated and didn't move, staring at him in bewilderment.

"Go! RUN! What are you waiting for!" Yelled Peter. The woman didn't acknowledge him beyond a slight nod, but began to stumble away, clutching the wall for support. Peter watched her go with relief, which the man took full advantage of, grabbing his burnt arm and twisting.

"Aaargh!" The scream left Peters throat involuntarily, and he swung at the man with his good arm desperately, but the intense pain in his left made it difficult to focus. In a purely vindictive move the man dig his fingers in, slamming Peter to the ground. All the breath left his body in one huff, and he gasped for breath futilely as the man picked him up, both arms pinned behind his back now. The man was breathing heavily but his grip was like iron. He sneered into Peters face and his breath smelt rather incongruously of mint.

"Think you're a hero do ya?" The man barked, drops of spittle flying from his mouth. "Think you're a big man? HA!"

His eyes were crazed, but his face changed quickly to a look of disgust.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" In a brutal movement he slammed Peter's head against the wall. There was a sickening crack, and Peter wasn't sure if he had heard it from inside his skull or not.

"Someone needs to teach you-" the man slammed his head against the wall a second time, and now something warm and sticky was trickling down the back of Peters neck.

"Not to interfere in other people's shit." The man slammed Peters head against the wall again with malice, and for the second time in less than 24 hours, Peter felt oblivion take over.

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"_ker...Parker? _Mr Parker, can you hear me?"

Peter blinked at the bright light being shined directly into his eyes from above.

"Uh... yes?"

The light retracted, making way for a smiling doctor who moved to the side of the bed he was lying on.

"That's, great Peter. I'm doctor McLean. You're at the Queens General Center hospital. You've suffered quite a serious head injury but there doesn't appear to be any swelling. You've been lucky. I'm going to ask you a couple of questions, just to test for concussion. That ok?"

Peter nodded as best he could.

"What day is it today?"

"Sunday."

"What school do you go to?"

"Midtown Science and Technology."

"How old are you?"

Peter had to think about that one. Was he sixteen? Or twenty one?

"Um... I- I was born in 2001."

Doctor McLean nodded understandingly. "I see." He picked up a clipboard from the end of the bed and marked it with a pen. "I have other patients to see now, but I'll be back soon to discuss where we go from here. I assume you're already being treated for the burns." He was about to leave, when Peter Said

"Wait!"

Doctor McLean looked at him questioningly. "Yes Peter?"

"Who- who brought me here?"

The doctor looked a little confused at the question. "I believe it was... a shop owner, who called the ambulance at the time. Good thing you had your identification on you."

" He looked brightly at Peter. "That all? Great! I'll be back shortly."

And then he left.

Peter's heart sank, and further guilt weighed upon him. An ambulance? And now he was in hospital _again. _Before... before Thanos, he would have just gone to Stark Tower to get fixed up, but now... he had absolutely no idea how they were going to afford the medical bills. As of May didn't have enough to worry about. He decided the first thing he'd do when he got out of hospital was get a job. He slumped back onto the pillows and waited for the doctor to come back. There seemed to be something happening in the corridor outside his room, and he strained his ears to hear it. Even with his enhanced hearing he could only catch snatches of conversation. One side of the conversation was mumbling too low for him to hear, whereas the other side was way more...animated.

"Th...completely... diculous. _I'm the one paying the goddamn bills here! _Do you... know wh...m? Let me..., or...oh, screw it."

Peter jumped as the door to his hospital room flew open, and he froze, as in strode an absolutely livid Tony Stark. Tony was breathing heavily and there was murder in his eyes.

"What. The hell. Is this?" Said Tony. He was holding up what looked like the doctors clipboard, and he was wearing a grease-stained t-shirt. Peter could only stare blankly, wondering if Tony had gotten frosted tips. Something in his brain seemed to have short-circuited, and he couldn't formulate a coherent sentence, even in his mind. If anything, this only seemed to make Tony madder.

"JESUS KID!" barked Tony, running a hand through his hair as he always did when preparing to rant. "What were you thinking? You know when I got the call from the hospital, I was thinking, maybe a super villain, perhaps some worldwide catastrophe, because _why else would Peter Parker be in hospital again? _And you know what I found?" He had stopped blinking by now and was using the scathing gaze usually reserved for the people he was about to utterly decimate.

"I found that you got in a fight without your suit, without the use of one frigging ARM, and with enough alcohol in your system to inebriate a dozen elephants! Against all the rules either I or your Aunt have ever made! I gotta tell you, kid," he said with utter disdain "this might not be the dumbest decision you've ever made but it certainly makes the top five!"

Now that Peter was getting over the initial shock, his brain had began to reboot, and emotions were coming back into play. At the moment, there was confusion, indignation, and just a hint of fear, the overriding emotion was _rage. _It was forcing its way up his stomach in a white-hot torrent, and Peter couldn't have stopped it even if he had wanted to. Which he didn't. He was so confused. Why was Tony even here? Part of Peter wanted to hug him, but a much greater part would have preferred to punch him. A short but fierce internal battle was fought to decide which outcome it would be. Unsurprisingly, the side that preferred punching won.

"_What makes you think you have a right to tell me anything anymore?" _hissed Peter in a voice he didn't recognise. He met Tony's gaze with as much contempt as he could muster.

"_Mr Stark, Sir." _


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi guys, back again! Feel free to skip this A/N as it is very long, but I wanted to share something with any other writers out there. Possibly have mentioned before but my mum used to be a fan of the show Ally Mcbeal, and has on her phone an album of songs from the show. Anyway, as I was browsing her music, what should I come across but a song called 'Chances Are' sung by Vonda Shepard and (drumroll please) none other than our fave Robert Downey Junior as 'Larry'! Anyhoo, I listened to the song of course, and actually thought it might provide some good inspo for a post- endgame fic from Peppers perspective. Just thought I'd put that out there. Now that's done, on with the story. Enjoy! **

Peter's words had been spoken in the heat of the moment, but this didn't make them any less true. The vindictiveness that simmered in Peters chest was an unfamiliar feeling. It wasn't hot, as he had always imagined it to be. It was cold like ice, inching across his skin and numbing everything it came into contact with. A year ago (or six, in Tony's case) the look in Tony's eyes would have made Peter run for cover. It was the look that frequently made paparazzi, and even the occasional supervillain quail in fear. It was a look perfected over ages, that somehow managed to convey rage, contempt, loathing and disdain, in one lethal cocktail, and that still managed to leave Tony looking as if he hadn't a care in the world. Yet somehow right now it had absolutely no effect on Peter. Even sitting powerless in bed, the anger and hurt that filled Peter's veins overpowered his usual feelings of inferiority and respect, so that he became bolder, and decided to continue the attack.

"I don't need a lecture from you, _Mr Stark." _he spat. "I don't even want your opinion! Like you never went to a party when you were young, huh? At least I was trying to _help _someone! What was I supposed to do, leave her to be beaten, or kidnapped, or- or- it's more than you ever did anyway! The whole world knows about your history with criminals. And you know what,"

Peter continued, really getting into the swing of things. It felt good to finally let the words out, as though with every sentence a weight that he hadn't even realised was there was being slowly lifted from his chest. And as he spoke, the look on Tony's face was slowly changing from ferocious, to a look that Peter hadn't seen before and didn't understand.

"And you know what, I think I have the _right _to go to a party, actually. Haven't been to many of those lately, and why was that again? Oh yeah, I remember now! I was in _hospital_ because I was dumb enough to save the world! Guess I've been doing a lot of dumb things lately. Did you know I was in hospital Mr Stark? I wouldn't blame you if you didn't, I know how _busy _you are. Gosh Mr Stark, it must really suck to have to take the time out of your schedule to come help me out. But I'm fine. Really. Swear. Great, actually, everything's... just great. School. That's great. May. She's good too. See? All good. So you don't have to worry about me any more. Sorry, I think worry was the wrong word. You don't have to bother with me any more. You can leave. You can... go back to your home, or work or whatever. You can- you can leave."

Something had twisted within Peter, and suddenly his rant didn't feel cathartic anymore. The bitterness that Peter had tried his hardest to ignore had come out, and was leaking into his words, betraying his real feelings. The ice that had previously numbed him began to burn. Peter felt his mouth press itself into a rock hard line, and his eyes were fixed with manic intensity on Tony's, but he didn't- _couldn't _move. He was almost afraid of what would happen if he did. His heart was racing though he hadn't moved a muscle, and he was working hard to control his breathing, trying to appear as calm and collected as possible. He was just waiting for Tony to take the bait and go. He was expecting it. He told himself he didn't care. He watched as Tony rolled his eyes with typical exasperation, and felt his cheeks grow warm with indignation. He couldn't stand it when Tony became patronising.

"Kid," began Tony with an infuriatingly blasè tone, "you're being ridiculous. You need to calm down, ok? I know I have a lot to answer for but you can't- you can't just self destruct-" Tony coughed, and his face went pale. He seemed to stutter for a moment, then exhaled slowly. He looked as if he was chewing the words over in his mind.

"Just...Stop your tantrum for a minute, and then we can talk abou-"

"GET OUT" screamed Peter. He jumped out of bed, ignoring the blood that immediately rushed to his head, and clenched his fists as his whole body shook with rage.

"GET OUT OF HERE. _I DONT WANT YOU HERE. _GET OUT!" He stared at Tony, and when Tony didn't move he rushed up to him as though he could somehow intimidate him enough to leave.

"GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET _OUT!" _Peters face began to tremble, and his voice became hoarse as he screamed. He didn't want Tony to see him like this, he didn't want Tony here at all. He didn't. _Why wouldn't he just go? _ But contrary to his wishes Tony still hadn't moved. In desperation Peter grabbed the front of Tony's shirt and shoved him away as hard as he could. Turns out, with the use of only one arm, and an overflow of emotion impairing his motor skills this wasn't very far, and Tony staggered back only a pace or two. Peter gazed in disbelief and groaned. It was too late now. He couldn't get Tony to leave, and now things were just going from bad to worse. He stumbled back towards the bed, unable to control his face as it contorted into hideous twisted expressions, and the tears burst forth, though he tried his hardest to suppress them. He sank to the floor, pulling his knees up and hunching his shoulders, hiding his face. He tried to speak, but the words were muffled and distorted by the shaking of his shoulders as he sobbed.

"_Just go. Leave- please. Just- please. Go? Please." _

All the frustration and fear that had been locked up inside Peter ever since he first took hold of the infinity gauntlet was pouring out in what felt like an endless flood of tears. All he could think about was how weak he must appear to Tony. He was so _mad _at Tony for abandoning him, and he didn't understand why. It wasn't like Tony was his Dad or anything. And anyway, Tony had moved on. He had a family now, a lovely, happy family, and Peter understood why Tony wouldn't want to see him anymore. Why should he care about a nobody from Queens when he had the world at his feet? Peter repeated this over and over in his mind as he hugged his knees where he sat leaning against the bed. It didn't help. His breath was coming in short, jagged gasps, and he couldn't hear anything over the rushing of his own blood in his ears. Tony must have left already. Peter hoped he had. It felt like he was drowning again, suffocating in his own parachute as he fell through the Hudson River, except this time he was drowning in an endless seas of his own loneliness.

Peter felt something wrap around his shoulders. He felt himself being pulled across to a soft cotton surface that smelled like motor oil and grass. He stiffened at the all too familiar feel of Tony's wiry arms, but after a second he couldn't fight it anymore, and slumped into Tony's chest as he cried. It was almost too easy to let himself hand the reins to someone else, and despite himself, Peter felt safe. It wasn't a familiar feeling, in fact, he couldn't remember the last time someone had held him like this. It was...nice. He felt Tony's arms tighten around him, but it wasn't uncomfortable. He was vaguely aware of Tony clearing his throat, but when Tony spoke it was almost as if he _felt _it, rather than heard it. The vibrations carried through Tony's chest as if they were going right through Peter.

"_Oh, Pete_." Said Tony, and his voice was oddly thick. "_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, kid. Please. You're ok. I'm sorry I swear." _

Tony mumbled this in cracked tones and Peter felt himself being rocked gently. It was oddly comforting. He felt his breathing beginning to slow, matching the rhythm of Tony's. They stayed like that for a while. Eventually Tony stopped talking, and Peter felt Tony's hands unclench from the back of his shirt. He hadn't even noticed that they had been clutching it so tightly.

It felt like an age, but it was still too soon when Peter felt Tony sigh, and slowly unpeel himself from Peter. He noticed with embarrassment that there was now a large damp patch on the front of Tony's shirt. Now they were face to face again Peter felt his fears creeping insidiously into the back of his mind, and he found he couldn't meet Tony's gaze.

"Kid?... Peter? Would you look at me please?"

Tony sounded uncertain. Peter looked at him, and was shocked by the weariness he saw in his eyes.

"Peter... I don't know how to... I've never been good at important conversations but- you deserve the important conversations, so I'll try. Breaking the cycle and all that." He sighed again, and looked up at the ceiling with unusually bright eyes.

"Why didn't you come visit me?" whispered Peter. "I get that you have a lot of things to worry about, but... once would have been nice." He hated how pathetic he sounded.

Tony made a sound like he'd been punched, and his face turned into something that could have been a grimace or a smile, possibly both. "I _did, _Pete. I stayed with you, I promise. But I- I had to leave before you woke up."

Peter snorted and turned away, as he dealt with the sting of Tony's betrayal. "That's bullshit." He muttered. "It's been weeks, and you couldn't even send a text? No," he shook his head "you should have just told me you didn't want to see me anymore."

"Kid that was never the issue!" Exclaimed Tony. "Do you even- you can't _possibly _understand what it was like, when you stole the infinity gauntlet from me that day. _I just got you back, and then you were gone. _I mean of all the dumbass things to do." Tony broke off for a moment, shaking his head, and Peter took the opportunity to defend himself.

"Well, actually Mr Stark, it was pretty similar to the time I stole Captain America's shield, and you were the one who told me to do that, so-"

"Kid I swear if you say that I caused that... well," said Tony as he raked a hand through his hair "well, you would be right, but don't you _dare_ say it, ok? Just give me that much. I need that." Peter thought it best to stay quiet. Tony continued talking.

"I don't expect forgiveness Peter. I can't ask for that, and I won't. But I have to apologise, because the last thing I wanted- the last thing I would _ever _want is for you to think that I- that I just- left. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that you felt I didn't care, and I'm sorry for treating you the way I did... before. What you did, with the infinity gauntlet...Kid, I want you to know I will never stop being mad at you for that. Ever. Period." Peter felt himself shrink under Tony's stare, and he almost couldn't listen as he continued.

"But. I will also never stop being proud of you. I should never have asked you to be better than me because the truth is - you always were. You're better than the rest of us combined and I know I can say this because you have the good sense not to let it go to your head. I'm so proud of you Peter. And so, so grateful. But if you ever pull a stunt like that again I will murder you myself. Just for future reference."

Peter's immediate feeling when he heard this was a strange warmth that began to spread through his whole body. He was so close to reaching out and hugging Tony again, but something stopped him.

"Can you- can you at least tell me why you didn't visit me? And why did you take the suit away?" He looked at Tony and hoped for an answer, but Tony wouldn't meet his eye.

"Kid..."

Peter hadn't realised how much he'd been hoping for an answer. Turns out he'd been hoping a lot. But the the look on Tony's eyes said it all, confirming his worst fears.

"No." Peter said firmly, screwing his eyes shut because he wasn't sure he could do this if he had to look at Tony.

"No. Mr Stark, _please, _I have to know, I have to. I don't care what it takes. If you tell me and then leave and don't come back that's- that's ok. But before you go just tell me why you don't want me to be Spiderman anymore? He opened his eyes and looked at Tony, who kneeled in front of him with no discernible expression, were it not for the slight slump to his shoulders and the set of his mouth. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Finally, he spoke.

"You really want to know?"

Peter nodded, and Tony looked defeated.

"Alright. I'll tell you the truth. I suppose I owe you that much at the very least. Just let me get off this floor first, my knees are killing me."

Tony picked himself up and pulled up a chair that was sat in the corner of the room. After some slight hesitation Peter followed suit and sat down on the hospital bed. His fingers had gone cold, and he flexed them nervously. He braced himself for what he was about to hear, certain it couldn't be good. Tony began talking.

"The first thing you have to understand is that I am responsible for everything that happened to you." Peter opened his mouth to protest, but Tony anticipated this and held up a finger to shush him. "Adult talking. Spiderling listens. Alright. And don't think I'm letting you off the hook, I just mean that I should have kept you off the front lines. I tried to keep you off the front, but I failed. And because of my failure, Peter, you died. _Twice. _And what's worse is you grabbed the infinity gauntlet right from my grasp with those sticky spider paws of yours. I don't care what you say but as the closest thing to a responsible adult, it should have been me making that choice. After that, well... well, your aunt thought it best that I kept my distance. I have to say, she does have a point. You and I don't exactly have the greatest track record for keeping each other out of trouble." Tony grinned half-heartedly, but Peter was preoccupied, as he processed everything he had been told. He didn't want to believe that May would have told Tony to stay away, but... it hurt that Tony had agreed so easily. Peter wondered if he had really meant so little to the man. As if reading his mind, Tony leaned forward and grasped Peters left forearm.

"Pete I'm sorry. Really. It was an unbelievably shitty thing to do to you, but I want you to know I never would have considered it if I didn't think you were better off without me."

"Well I'm not!" Exploded Peter. "I mean- I think that-" he stared at his socks and muttered "I just missed you Mr Stark, ok? I really- really missed you."

For the first time in their conversation Tony looked almost happy. He wasn't quite smiling, but his eyes crinkled at the corners when he said "Missed you too underoos." And somehow Peter felt whole again. There was only one problem, and it didn't take before Peter caved in and voiced it.

"So... what are we going to tell May?"


	10. Chapter 10

**So, so, so sorry for the wait. Please forgive me. Anyway, here's chapter ten. Enjoy!**

Peter felt drained as he climbed the stairs to his apartment in Queens, but it wasn't the type of weariness he had been feeling ever since the battle against Thanos. That was the sort of drained that made it difficult just to breathe, the sort that sucked the emotion from everything and turned life into a tedious, grey drudge, that made every joke Ned made seem bland, and the retro-tech that had previously consumed hours of well- spent time seem too complex to even bother touching. This was a different sort of drained. It felt closer to the feeling Peter got when he crawled through his bedroom window at night with smoke in his hair and a singed suit from helping people out of burning buildings. It was closer to when he had collapsed on the sofa with Tony at the compound after a mammoth training session, heart racing and muscles aching. The sort of drained that left his mind whirring and his fingers itching to build something, even though his body had other ideas. It was the good kind of drained, and to tell the truth, Peter had forgotten what that felt like. The events of the past few hours had been both mentally and physically exhausting. First the fight with the man in the alley. He'd used muscles during that fight that he hadn't used in weeks, and the contusions on his head were making a rather attractive addition to his sling. The fact that the man had escaped was still a sore point, especially since Peter was certain it wouldn't have happened if he hadn't drunk so much the night before. If he saw the man again he would waste no time in putting him behind bars. Or at least leaving him for someone who could. Still, he supposed he should be grateful that it had happened, as it had indirectly led to his talk with Tony. That had been...actually, he wasn't quite sure what that had been. Something, definitely. Not nothing. And certainly a hell of a lot better than the situation he had been in before. He stared at the gray concrete of the stairs and allowed his mind to drift. Something knotted in his chest as he thought back to his conversation with Tony.

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"_Don't tell May!" Blurted our Peter, before backtracking hastily. "At least, not yet. Maybe... give her a bit of time to cool off? I'll speak to her I promise." _

_Tony nodded thoughtfully. _

"_Yeah, good plan kid. I don't like the idea of pushing myself even further over your Aunts bad side before I absolutely have to. That woman could give Thor a run for his money. That's a compliment, by the way. ...Actually, there's been something I've been meaning to talk to you about." Said Tony, looking uncharacteristically sober. "But I wasn't sure- well- with the whole thing about me not supposed to even see you that was a bit difficult. Anyway. There's a press conference next weekend. I'm hosting a press conference. To explain what happened with...Thanos, and we're also paying tribute to those that died. I understand if you don't want people knowing that you're Spiderman yet, in fact I respect that, but if I'm not allowed to give Peter Parker credit for saving the world, then I'd at least like to give credit to Spiderman. Would you... is that- something you would want? But you know, no biggie if you'd rather not, I get it, in fact-" _

"_Wow! Mr Stark, that's... uh, that's really nice of you. Yes. Please." _

"_Good. Glad that's sorted." _

_There was a brief, slightly awkward silence. Peter could tell that Tony was trying, and he appreciated it, really he did. But in moments like this, when unspoken words hung heavy in the air, he was reminded of just how long it had been since Mr Stark saw him crumble to dust on Titan. He'd changed, and Peter no longer knew where they stood. He got the sense that in the five years he'd been gone the relationship dynamic had somehow progressed beyond mentor and mentee (or whatever they were) to... something else. It wasn't bad, in fact quite the opposite, but it felt like Peter was struggling to catch up. _

"_So... how have you been?" The second the words left his lips Peter realised what a stupid question it was. What was he thinking? The world had practically ended what was he even expecting Tony to say? He began to panic inwardly, and it must have showed on his face. He had never been good at hiding his emotions, not even when faced with protecting his secret identity. Sooner or later he usually ended up a blustering mess, which just made things even more embarrassing. Luckily, Tony just smirked, and drawled sarcastically, "I've had better times." Then he smiled, a sort of small inward smile. "Well, that might not be totally true. There were a couple of good times in there with the bad." _

_Oh yeah. His daughter. Peter swallowed and tried to ignore the twinge of jealousy that crept up unannounced. He knew he was being petty, but he just couldn't bring himself to ask after her. For some reason, he was scared that the moment Tony remembered his real family he would realise he could be having a much better time elsewhere, and then Peter would be left alone once again. "Oh...that's good I guess." He stared at his lap for a while, at a loss for anything to say. When he looked up again Tony was fidgeting in his chair. At least some things never changed. Usually Tony had some new bit of gadgetry in his hand to play with, or, failing that, a screwdriver or wrench. However, in the absence of these, he had settled for drumming his fingers on his knee. Peter wondered if he was anxious or just bored. _

"_How's the arm?" _

_The question threw Peter off guard. His injuries weren't a topic he particularly wanted to discuss. The fact that they weren't healing as fast as they should was a constant source of dread that he was working hard to keep at the back of his mind. The possibility that his arm might never heal correctly wasn't one he wanted to consider, but when he lay awake at night it was almost impossible to shut out the thoughts that swirled around his mind. It didn't help that every day there were things he couldn't do without extreme difficulty , simple things like cutting his food or tying his shoelaces. But he wasn't ready to convey any of this to Tony. Despite the vulnerability that had been embarrassingly showcased just half an hour earlier, they weren't there yet. He gave a noncommittal shrug, but even that was lopsided, which probably didn't do much to help his case. _

"_It's ok." _

_Tony looked at him, eyebrows quirked in a sarcastic expression that said "sure, kid," just as clearly as words ever could. Peter braced himself to be ripped to shreds by Tony for his blatant lie, but nothing ever came. _

"_Hmph." Was all that Tony said. "I've got the Big Green looking into it, but there's only so much he can do at the moment. We'll just have to wait and see." _

_Relief swept over Peter, gratitude that Tony hadn't taken it any further, however it was sadly short lived, as he heard Tony's next words. "I have to say Pete, I kinda got to agree with your aunt on the whole 'no spiderman' thing. At least for now. You have enough to deal with at the moment. Let someone else take care of the bad guys for once."_

_The words had been spoken with unusual kindness, and this only made Peters moral quandary worse. The words that had been on the top of his tongue sank back down unnoticed. He had been going to tell Tony about the strange situation involving Black Widow- Nat- and Clint, but now he was reluctant. Surely Tony had enough in his plate without worrying about something that in all likelihood wouldn't even affect him? It's not like Peter even had anything to do with that anymore. And besides, Peter didn't have the right to go and involve Tony in other people's business. As he reasoned through it in his mind, Peter became more sure he was doing the right thing by not saying anything. Given a while longer, he might have changed his mind again, but luckily (or not) his thoughts were interrupted by Tony, who was glancing at his watch with an alarmed expression. _

"_And speaking of aunt hottie, you'd better be getting home soon. Come on kid, I'll drop you off a block away, so you should be clear." _

_Tony checked Peter out of the hospital. The receptionist seemed a bit sceptical as Tony wasn't a blood relative, but let them go without too much hassle. After all, Tony Stark was the one paying the bills, despite the protests of Peter. They walked to the parking lot in silence. Tony hadn't brought a driver. It was one of his sports cars, perhaps not the flashiest of the bunch, but sleek and black and deadly looking. Decidedly incongruous with Tony's grease stained T- shirt and jeans, but then again, Peter supposed when you had that amount of money nobody really cared how you dressed. It was definitely a change from the sharp designer suits which used to be an unspoken uniform of Tonys, at least whenever he left the Stark Tower. Or the Avengers Compound. Neither of which existed anymore. Just more reminders of how much had changed in five years. As they drove through the streets of Queens, everything Peter saw was familiar, yet not. It was a rather disconcerting feeling, and definitely not a pleasant one. It only emphasised the odd sense Peter sometimes got, that he was somehow lagging behind in things, like a scratched CD skipping over the damaged parts. Many of the old shops were still there, except now they were dilapidated and run down. In other areas, bright new buildings had sprung up where familiar ones used to be. Eventually Peter couldn't look anymore, and settled for examining closely the many mysterious buttons on Tony's dashboard. Why did he need so many anyway? What did they even do? He was curious, so he asked, and this led to a discussion on the cars many mechanical alterations, which lasted for the majority of the journey. When they got about a block away from Peters apartment, Tony stopped the car. They sat in silence. After the intense emotion of the past couple of hours, it felt almost surreal to be sitting so calmly in the passenger seat of Tony's car. Almost like nothing had ever changed. Peter moved to unbuckle his seatbelt. He was about to open the car door when Tony cleared his throat. "Not so fast, kid." He pulled Peter into a firm hug, patting him on the back once before letting go. _

"_I thought we weren't there yet?" joked Peter, feeling corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. A dirty look from Tony indicated that the man was not amused, so Peter thought it wise to retract his statement. _

"_Sorry. Thanks." _

"_Anytime." Tony opened the glove compartment and pulled out his trademark sunglasses before slipping them on. Peter took this opportunity, slipping away quietly before Tony could look up. After all, neither of them were ever much good at saying goodbye._

_._

_._

_._

_._

Peter's foot reached for a non-existent step, tripping him up and abruptly breaking off his train of thought. His one good hand flailed for the metal stair-railing, grabbing it just in time to stop himself eating dirt. It appeared he had reached his floor without realising it. Sagging against the railing, he allowed himself about 30 seconds to rest his aching muscles, before clambering to his feet. Not that he really needed the rest, but he did need the extra seconds to prepare before facing May. It wasn't a prospect he was looking forward to. Eventually he could put it off no longer. When he entered the apartment he was expecting an ambush, and had gone over his explanation for the rapidly healing cuts on his head many times. He had fallen out of a tree trying to rescue a cat, which then took revenge by scratching up his face. A lame excuse maybe, but it was all he had and he was determined to stick to it. He wasn't going to tell her about seeing Mr Stark again. Not yet, at least. Also, if his aunt found out how he had actually got his injuries, the consequences were sure to be dire, hence the need for a cover story. As it turned out, he needn't have bothered. He closed the door behind him as gently as possible, familiar with the scene before him. It was pretty common when May had taken a night shift, or when she was trying to rest up before one. The lights in the flat were dim, but the TV was blaring one of the over-dramatic soap operas that May was so fond of. Well, fond of in that she claimed they put her to sleep, and in this case the evidence certainly backed her up. She was curled up on the couch with her knees tucked into her chest and her head resting in the curve of her elbow. Peter moved forward as silently as he could. He always felt guilty seeing May like this. She worked so hard for him, and supporting two people in New York wasn't an easy task. Sometimes she came home from work to tired to even eat, and would go straight to her room, falling into an almost catatonic state as soon as she hit the bed. Peter had offered to get a job, but May always insisted he focus on his studies, joking that when he became a millionaire he could support them both. He fully intended to do so one day. But how could he talk to her about Mr Stark now? It would only upset her further, and they were just beginning to fall into some semblance of normality. Peter went and grabbed a blanket from the airing cupboard, draping it over her as best he could and turning off the TV. He went to bed, and though the day had been more stressful than most, somehow his thoughts didn't seem to weigh so heavily on him tonight, and he fell pretty quickly into a dreamless sleep.

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Unfortunately, the next day was Monday. Monday meant facing everyone at school, and the events of Flash's party. Peter was dreading it, but luckily it seemed everyone else had been too wasted to even notice. Ned did moan at him for a while for not showing up, but Peter thought it best to just apologise, rather than admit to the actual events of Saturday night. Anyway, he was too tired to even communicate much. He struggled to keep his eyes open all through his classes, and even when he could just about feign awareness he didn't register a word of what the teachers were saying. The harsh ring of the final bell jolted him out of his stupor, and as he closed his notebook he realised the few notes that he had managed to scrawl over the course of the lesson hadn't been much more than gibberish. He was only too glad to escape into the comparatively fresh air.

As he left the school grounds, something odd happened. Peter's spidey senses flared up in an irritating wave. He turned around, searching for the culprit, but saw nothing. Nothing except the usual sights of any New York street. Oh well. Sometimes his senses flared up over nothing. It was irritating, but worth it usually. Shaking it off, he continued on his usual route home, but less than five minutes later it happened again, more insistent this time. A deep sense of unease was creeping up Peter's spine, and he began to wind his route, taking side streets in a lengthy detour. Still the feeling followed him, and Peter was beginning to feel like something was about to go very, very wrong. The feeling solidified in his gut when he realised his detour had taken him right into a dead end alleyway. He stared at the brick wall in despair, his heart thumping in his chest and his muscles tensed. Not a sound could be heard beyond the faint noise made by the traffic, but in that moment Peter was certain there was someone behind him. Whoever it was was deadly silent, but he knew there was someone there, and he certainly wasn't going to wait around for them to make the first move. Peter whipped around as fast as he could, one fist raised, and gaped in shock when he saw who it was.


	11. Chapter 11

**Ugh, guys, this is so sad. I thought my idea was original but then I came across a story published before mine in which Peter also uses the infinity stones! Then again, I am writing fan fiction, ergo, nothing is original. Thank you so much to everyone who reviews, it means the world to me. A couple of people guessed at who the mysterious figure is, if you're right, well, you know who you are. Here's chapter eleven. Enjoy!**

"Woah there Pete!" exclaimed the mysterious figure, pulling down the hood that shaded its face and holding up his hands in a clear gesture of surrender. Peter was confused for a moment before realising one fist was still raised threateningly at the man. He lowered it immediately. Actually, scratch that, he was still really confused.

"_Clint? _What are you... wait, are _you_ the person that's been following me this whole time?"

Obviously Peter was a bit suspicious, but he hadn't meant for the words to come out sounding so accusatory. Clint looked affronted, and said with indignation

"Of course not! Well," he amended, "I _was _following you, but not in a _creepy _way! I need to talk to you."

"...You know you could have just said hi?"

"What, right in front of your school? Yeah, cause that would have done wonders for your secret identity."

"Well you could have texted."

"I did, actually."

"...oh."

Peter pulled out his phone to confirm, and sure enough, there was a text from Hawkeye requesting a meeting after he had finished school. Feeling well and truly chagrined, he slipped the phone back in his pocket. He could feel his cheeks warm up and was reluctant to meet Clints' eye, but managed it eventually, feeling more than a little foolish.

"Oh gosh, I'm sorry. I was so out of it today."

Clint shrugged and grinned easily. "That's ok. My fault too. I would have waited for you to reply, except that I was in the area anyway and I needed to speak to you pretty urgently."

The last part of his sentence flew right over Peters head as another thought occurred to him. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"Hang on... how do you know what school I go to?"

Clint rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation.

"Peter, do you honestly think Tony would pass up an opportunity to brag about the fancy school his ridiculously smart protege goes to?"

Now it was Peters turn to blush and stare, embarrassed (and just a little pleased) at the ground. Mr Stark thought he was ridiculously smart? Nah, Clint was probably exaggerating.

"Great, now that we've established that I'm _not _out to kidnap you and sell you on the black market," Said Clint impatiently, "do you have a minute to talk? Like I said, it's sorta urgent."

Mr Stark and May were both adamant that Peter not get involved in any more Spiderman activity for a while, at least. And although it might irritate him beyond belief, Peter knew they were probably right. There was only one possible answer.

"Yeah. Of course. What can I help with?" As if he would even think about saying no! Anyway, it was just a conversation, so what harm could it do? Although actually, he did have to be home before six, or May would have a nervous breakdown. But Peter had a hunch about what- or who- this might concern, and if his hunch was correct there was no way he wouldn't at least stick around to find out what was happening. He owed her that much. "This is about Nat, isn't it?"

Clint nodded, his face graven. When he spoke next, he stuttered over the words in a way that seemed out of place in his usually calm character. "Look Peter- I know it's a lot to ask, in fact I probably shouldn't even be asking you... but- well I have to try. I just have to. Can you understand that?"

Peter nodded slowly, trying to make sense of the grabbed words he had just heard. "Yeah, sure... but what is it exactly you need from me?"

"I'm not even sure myself, yet. But Doctor Strange is doing some research into this...place that you ended up, to see if there's a way... a way to bring her back, and he says he can't make any progress without speaking to you first. He said we might not even be able to do anything without your help, Peter. I understand it's a big ask, especially on top of everything else you have to deal with, but Peter... she didn't deserve this."

Something in Peters gut felt like it was ripping. All he could think of was something Nat had said, a phrase half remembered from that odd, dream like place. "_In my experience, fate doesn't deal in fairness." _She was right, but that didn't make it any less frustrating. How was he supposed to say no? He didn't want to say no. He agreed with Clint, and he knew that if he was in the same position he would want someone to be working this hard to bring him back. How could he possibly refuse when Clint and the other avengers, and Nat herself actually _did _work this hard to bring him back, harder even. Yet still...

"Mr Stark... and my aunt May... they don't want me doing Spiderman stuff for a while."

Clint looked at him, and suddenly Peter felt like such a child for having said that.

"Then don't tell them." Stated Clint matter-of-factly . The words would have seemed blunt, harsh even were it not for the muted desperation that clawed at the back of Clints' eyes like a wounded animal trapped in a cage from which there was no escape.

"It's the only way. _Please._"

This time, Peter didn't hesitate. He gritted his teeth and nodded, resigning himself to keeping yet more secrets from his friends and family. But he was certain he had made the right decision by the look on Clints' face, and the fervent thanks he gave to Peter.

"Can you come tomorrow? Well, what about this weekend? Shall we say, nine am Saturday? I'll text you the address." It was agreed. Hawkeye said goodbye with another earnest thanks, while Peter began to work his way out of the labyrinthine maze of side streets he had somehow ended up in. Yet even as he found his way out through the dingy back alleys and into the brighter environment of the main streets, he felt as though he was delving deeper and deeper into a twisted maze from which there was no way out.

He was on edge for the rest of the week. Paranoia had set in, and Peter was constantly checking over his shoulder. It was turning out to be harder than he had thought to keep the different layers of his life separate. Like that one time May had tried to make trifle- he shuddered just thinking about it. The layers of cake, cream and jam- all good things- and somehow merged together to create an unholy mess that somehow managed to be completely and utterly inedible. Honestly, he was often quite impressed at Mays' ability, and reckoned it would be a pretty good offensive weapon if she could manage to get someone to sit down long enough. Speaking of, things between him and May had definitely improved as of late. Peter knew he'd been acting like a jerk, and had been making a pretty big effort to communicate more. So he and May had finally begun to settle into what felt like a slightly different version of their pre-snap routine. Peter would come back from school. May would come home from work. One of them would attempt to cook, but more often than not they'd end up going out for dinner, or ordering takeout. Still, they had started talking again, discussing the possibility of returning to being Spiderman, maybe once his arm had healed properly. May was still reluctant, but Peter had been slowly raising the subject, just once or twice, and her reaction had not been as adverse as he had expected. This was encouraging. And because the peace they had established was still fragile, Peter hadn't risked bringing up the subject of Tony. May still turned off the TV whenever anything concerning the Avengers came on, which was frequently. Peter could tell she just wasn't ready yet, and... he understood. At least, he was trying. But it did make things harder for him, and keeping secrets had never been his forte, which probably explained why so many people knew about his 'secret' identity. Whenever the Avengers were mentioned in conversation (which was rare), Peter took great pains to ensure he never lied outright. He also never left his phone lying about, just in case a text from Mr Stark should appear. Their contact had been pretty minimal, but regular: a couple of texts a day, sometimes a link to a funny video. Tony had even called once, after checking to see if it was safe. That wasn't so great. Tony had asked about school, and Peter had asked if Bruce had made any progress on the injury front (no) and they had laughed a bit, but Peter still felt like there was a distance between them, greater than the phone line. He remembered when he had first come across Tony after the second snap, on the battlefield near the remains of the Avengers compound. It was strange, but when they had met there, despite the horrific conditions of the encounter, Peter had felt absolutely secure in the knowledge that everything would turn out ok, because Mr Stark- Tony- was there. And against all odds it had been. Except now Peter was keeping secrets again, and it was harder than he had thought to keep forcing all the lies through his teeth. It left feeling queasy.

Anyway. He had made it to Friday night without slipping up. Tomorrow he was meeting with Clint and Dr Strange. Peter was lying in his bed, analysing the patches of flaking plaster on the ceiling and dreading the next day. It wasn't that he didn't _like _the doctor. He did. But Dr Strange was just _so _intimidating, and Peter always got the impression he was holding back. Granted, Peter had heard that the doctor knew all the secrets of the universe, so that was probably to be expected. It was just a little unnerving. The last time he had seen the Doctor it had been from the confines of a hospital bed.

And as if all this wasn't enough to keep on top of, there was that press conference tomorrow night. Peter had to get home in time to watch it. Tony had even asked if Peter would like to come visit on Sunday, but Peter had had to refuse. He was already going to be away for most of Saturday, and he didn't want to push his luck where May was concerned. It _was_ nice to be invited though. With this in mind, Peter pulled up the covers and turned his lamp off. He closed his eyes. He could hear the traffic outside his room. The faint sound of a siren cutting through the air. Someone was yelling in one of the apartments above. He zeroed I'm on a better sound, the sound of May reading in the living room. He could hear the regular rustle of the pages, and it was comforting to be reminded of her presence. He listened to this, and he must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing he knew it was morning, and someone was shaking him.

"Umph"

No...ugh, he was so cozy...why did he have to get up..."ten more minutes" he mumbled into his pillow, but the phantom shaker was persistent and forget about ten minutes, within ten seconds he was staring up at the vaguely concerned face of May.

"Um, Peter?" She asked with a frown. "You know your alarm has been going off for the past half hour right?" She jerked back in surprise as Peter practically fell out of bed.

"Wait _really? _Oh shit! Sorry! Shoot?"

He was going to be late. Late for a meeting with an Avenger and a wizard. An _Avenger. _And a _wizard. _This was bad, this was so, so, UGH! Why was everything in his room so neatly packed away! Peter scrambled about the room, hunting out items of clothing, tipping out his entire underwear drawer when he couldn't find a matching pair of socks. May retreated wisely, closing the door behind her. It shouldn't have taken as long as it did for Peter to get ready, but it was pretty hard to hurry whilst using only one arm. He gave up on tying his right shoelace, and took the stairs to the street four at a time, using his left arm to swing round the landings, almost knocking over Mrs Goldstein in the process. He could hear his frantically shouted apology echo through the building as he continued his mad dash, proceeding out into the streets. He went as fast as he could, yet by the time he reached 177A Bleecker street it was closer to Ten o'clock than nine. Peter stood outside the door panting for a minute. Ugh, he was all sweaty. Gross. Normally he would have dithered outside for a bit before knocking, but he was definitely too late for that, so took hold of the large, old fashioned door knocker and gave a few sharp raps. Immoderately it swung open, yet there was nobody there to greet him. Peter walked into the building, thinking that if this was a horror movie he would probably be laughing his ass off at the idiotic decisions of the main characters. Yet here he was. The room he was in appeared to be some kind of a lobby, though in some disrepair. The ceilings and windows were high, and a grand staircase swept through the middle of the room, but the air was dimly lit and thick with dust.

"Ah, Mr Parker. You made it."

Peter couldn't see where the voice was coming from. He glanced around in search of it.

"Um. Dr Strange, sir?"

"Over here."

A strange shape began to descend- or rather- _float _down the large staircase. As it made its way down, the shape coalesced into the unmistakeable figure of Dr Stephen Strange. As usual, he was wearing the snazzy red cloak that Peter secretly coveted. Strange's thin face was stern, but Peter couldn't be sure if it was because of something he had done, or if the doctor just always looked like that. He gulped, and began to apologise.

"Sir, I'm so sorry I'm late, honestly I don't know how it happened, I would have been here on time, early even, but my alarm, well-" Strange raised a hand, and Peter trailed off. The doctor moved forward and put out his hand. Peter stared at it blankly before realising what it was for and shaking it.

"It's good to see you." Said Strange. "Thank you for coming."

"Uh... anytime." replied Peter. "Is, uh, is Clint here as well?"

Strange nodded. "Yes, we'll be meeting him shortly." He gestured briefly with his hands, and a large glowing portal appeared. The doctor motioned for Peter to go through, and so he stepped through the portal, emerging on the other side followed closely by Doctor Strange. Peter watched in awe as the portal disappeared in a shower of golden sparks. "_Cool." _He breathed. Strange strode purposely forward while Peter gazed at his surroundings. It was like a cross between a study and a museum, and it was awesome. Glass cases full of suits of armour, weapons, some of what could only be described as instruments of torture, and others that Peter couldn't even begin to guess at the nature of. The room would have been stuffy were it not for the large windows. Honestly, Peter could have happily spent hours examining all this cool stuff, but instead he trailed the doctor to the far end of the room, where Clint was standing, leaning against a chair in a nonchalant pose. Well, it would have seemed nonchalant to anyone else, but Peter could see the tendons standing out in his neck, and the grim set of his mouth. The latter relaxed slightly when Clint saw Peter.

"You came."

Relief was plain in his voice.

"Won't you sit down?" Asked Strange. Peter obliged, taking an overstuffed armchair in a pleasant green shade. Clint took a grey one opposite, and Strange retreated to a brown leather chair, crossing his legs and surveying Peter with uncomfortable intensity.

"Tea?" Asked the doctor. "Soda?"

Was it a trick question? Some kind of test?

"Umm... tea, please?" Peter waited to see if he had passed or failed, but to his surprise, a large steaming teapot appeared floating in mid-air, along with a patterned china teacup. The teapot proceeded to pour the hot beverage out, and when it was finished, the cup floated over to Peter, who stared at in amazement. "Is this for me? Oh, uh- " he reached out and grabbed it swiftly from air, praying it wouldn't fall and smash. It didn't. He wrapped his left hand around the delicate handle, before meeting the steady gaze of Doctor Strange.

"Tell me Peter," said the doctor, reclining in his seat. "What do you know about the infinity stones?"

Peter paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, racking his brains for the few facts he had picked up during his battles with Thanos.

"Well, um, I mean... I used them? So, I know there's six of them, they all do different things-"

Strange cut him off mid flow. "Perhaps I should have been more specific. Tell me. What do you know about the _soul stone._"

**Terribly sorry guys, turns out when I posted this chap I wrote five stoems instead of six. Stupid mistake, now fixed. **


	12. Chapter 12

**Hi guys! I wasn't sure about this chap, so please let me know if I can improve it. I fixed the stupid mistake about the stones in my last chap, sorry about that. Anyway... chapter 12! Enjoy!**

Tony tugged absentmindedly at his shirt collar where it chafed slightly on his neck. Once upon a time he wouldn't have deigned to leave the tower wearing anything more casual than a sports jacket (at least not in the public eye), but he rarely had occasion to wear suits anymore, and he had gotten soft. Still, right now he almost felt like the old Tony. He was in town preparing for tonight's press conference, and various lackeys were scurrying about doing whatever it was they did, but Tony had stepped out for a minute after seeing a missed call from Pepper. _Alright_, he admitted to himself, _maybe I'm not so much like the old Tony anymore. _He held the phone to his ear as it buzzed.

"Pepper?"

"Hello?"

"Pep, honey it's me!"

"Oh! Hi baby. Everything alright?"

"Yeah, sorry I missed your call. I'd love to chat but I gotta go in a sec. Did you need me?"

"No, that's ok. I'm sure everything will go smoothly tonight. I'm sorry I can't be there, but the little princess has still got the sniffles. I've been expressly forbidden to leave. Did you get an answer from Peter by the way?"

"... yeah, he's not gonna make it this weekend. School night and all that. Don't worry, I'll keep bugging him."

"Oh. Well you could drop him off in the morning. I could speak to May, I'm sure-"

"No! ...no, she's right. Maybe next weekend. Honey I really gotta go."

"Well don't be too late. Love you."

"Love you. Bye."

Tony hung up. He was about to go head back into the fray, but he thought it couldn't hurt to try. He went into his favourites column, and pressed the contact with the spider icon next to it. It rung for a minute before connecting.

"Pete?" Tony couldn't hear anything on the other end. "You there buddy? You've muted yourself again haven't you? Call yourself a techie."

The phone was silent, and Tony realised he was probably speaking to the inside of Peters' pocket. Oh well, the kid would probably text later. Tony hung up, and re-entered the preparations for the press conference, wondering vaguely what the kid was up to now.

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"The- the soul stone?"

Peter was panicking, but only very mildly. It felt rather like he was sat in the middle of a test that he was supposed to have studied for, even though he'd had no idea they even had a test. It didn't help that both Clint and Dr Strange were scrutinising him closely, their expressions unreadable. Sweat began to collect on the back of his neck in little droplets. _Think Peter, think. _

"That's uh, that's the yellow one, isn't it?" He asked, hoping his voice didn't betray his nervousness, but with a sneaking suspicion that it did.

"Hmm. Close, but not quite." said Strange, the corner of his mouth twisting slightly.

"It's orange. I have to say, I'm surprised you managed to use the stones considering how little you know about them. How _did _you do it, I wonder?"

Peter shrugged, before realising this probably wasn't a suitable answer, and saying hurriedly "well, um. I, uh... just sorta... thought about getting rid of the aliens and... did it. I mean, Bruce- Dr Banner- had already done the hard part, with the de-ashing, um, (materialisation?) um, bringing everyone back."

At this, Clint let out a small snort and the corners of Strange's mouth actually did quirk up in amusement. "Some people might consider what you did to be reasonably hard, Mr Parker," said the doctor, "but admittedly your lack of knowledge on the properties of the stones isn't ideal."

Embarrassed, Peter fidgeted with the teacup in his lap, tracing the floral pattern with one finger before bringing it to his mouth and taking a sip. The tea was pleasantly warm, with notes of something spicy, maybe ginger, cutting through the sweet liquid. He looked up again. Dr Strange made an intricate gesture with his hands. Within the same second, a holographic image appeared just where the doctors' hand had been. Peter realised what it was immediately. _The soul stone_. Almost unconsciously, he leaned forward in his chair, eyes fixated on the image. A small, oval gem. Nothing special about the shape or cut of the stone, at least, not that Peter could see. It was odd though. It was as if there was something- no, many things- _within _the stone. Like, the stone itself wasn't orange so much as the contents were. Peter found himself leaning even closer. He was certain there was something in the centre of the stone, but he couldn't _see. _It was all hazy. The contents were shifting, ever changing in a sort of misty haze, and Peters eye followed them as best it could. But he couldn't see them, not really, and it was driving him crazy. It seemed like every time a shape was just on the edge of forming something solid, something recognisable, it suddenly became nothing more than mist. He had a strange urge to be _inside _the stone, to be able to examine the contents...to...it was so beautiful. _So beautiful. _

Then it was gone. Peter blinked multiple times, trying to regain focus in his eyes. He must have zoned out for a minute there. He had been looking at the soul stone...except now that he came to think about it, he couldn't quite remember what it looked like. Well, he knew what it _looked _like. In theory. But he couldn't actually visualise it. All in all it was pretty disconcerting, and when the doctor started talking it didn't register with him immediately. As soon as he realised he tuned in and tried to pretend he'd been listening the whole time.

"..s you may already know, the soul stone gives the user the ability to alter and manipulate all souls, regardless of physical state. However, because of its immense destructive capabilities, it requires a sacrifice in order to obtain the stone."

Peter glances over at Clint as Dr Strange continued to talk. He was looking in the doctors direction, but didn't appear to be actually seeing him. His face was unguarded, and it felt almost intrusive for Peter to be watching him when Clint himself wasn't aware of it. He dragged his attention back to Strange.

"...was his adopted daughter Gamora, and in ours, Ms Romanoff. We had thought that the snap was irreversible, and I do believe that there is no way of resurrecting Ms Romanoffs body."

In spite of himself, Peter sucked in a sharp breath at the news. Strange broke off, and looked at Peter with something that strongly resembled kindness in his eyes.

"Mr Parker. I would not have asked you here just to tell you that all hope was lost. It's true, I don't believe there is any way to resurrect Ms Romanoffs' original body. That is lost. There may, however, be a way to resurrect her soul, if she is where I think she is. And from there, well, building a body isn't so very hard."

"You can actually do that?" Peter asked, incredulous. This was wilder than anything he had imagined in his way here, and he had a pretty active imagination.

"Like, with magic? Actual magic? And where do you think she is?"

Strange was too dignified to shrug, but he did the facial equivalent of one. "Yes, actual magic. Well, magic, and a little help from science. As for where Ms Romanoff is, well, I believe you've been there yourself."

Peter must have looked as blank as he felt, because the doctor began to elaborate. "I have been doing research about the properties of the stone, and I have made some interesting discoveries. If I am correct- which I usually am- then there is a pocket dimension within the soul stone. I believe that is where Ms Romanoff's soul has been sent, and I believe that the pocket dimension is where your own soul was briefly sent, Mr Parker."

"But... I didn't sacrifice myself for the stone."

"Didn't you? You sacrificed yourself in exchange, at least partially, for the use of the stones' power, and that appears to be close enough."

Peter had seen some amazing things since he gained his powers, but they were usually accompanied by equally terrible things. He had been to Germany, and had almost been crushed by a bridge. He had been to space, and he had disintegrated. He had held the power of the universe in one hand and he had died. This was different, because they actually had a chance to do the impossible, and bring someone back from the dead. Or from the pocket dimension. Wherever she was. This time there was actually _hope. _It was different in the most fantastic way, and he was bursting with curiosity as to how they were going to manage it. Then a dreadful thought occurred to him, and chills ran across his arms.

"But... we cant get the soul stone without sacrificing someone else." Now Peter felt awful They couldn't sacrifice someone else to get Nat back, and that- that would mean-. He looked up at Dr Strange and Clint, hoping against hope that they would tell him there was some other way. There had to be another way.

The two older Avengers were eyeing each other warily. This didn't help Peter much and he was becoming more anxious with each passing second. Surely they weren't thinking of sacrificing someone? Finally, Clint took it upon himself to speak.

"Well that was our first problem. Good news is, we figured out a way past that."

This eased Peters nerves slightly. Just slightly. "...How?" He asked with trepidation.

Clint was ready with the answer. And when it came, it was both absurdly complex, yet absurdly simple at the same time.

"Time travel. After you used the stones, we gave them to Steve so he could return them to their original timeline. If we get to _him_ before _he _gets to Vormir, then we can bring the stone back to this timeline, and find a way to bring Nat back from the pocket dimension. One we're able to create a body for her of course."

"This is amazing!" Peter was beyond thrilled. "This is _so cool. _It's going to be just like Doctor Who! Have either of you ever seen Doctor Who? Oh it's amazing, he's this time travelling alien who travels through the galaxy and-"

He realised he was gushing again. He could feel adrenaline start to kick in and he was already really hyped, but when he spoke again he made an effort to be calmer, more collected.

"I mean- ah, good plan. Great idea. Wait- can I- I can go with you, right? My arm's almost healed, and I can help I promise! Please let me go with you."

He sat up straight and put on his most mature expression, the one he used when trying to convince May to let him do something.

Clint looked surprised, but Dr Strange's face remained as inscrutable as ever.

"You want to help that badly?" said Clint. "Because, we're not fighting any enemies here, but you gotta understand, time travel is always risky. Strange has got to stay here to look after things on this end, so if anything happens, we'll be on our own out there. No backup."

Peter nodded. "I know. I want to help, really. I don't think I could live with myself if I left you guys to do everything by yourselves."

Besides, he was desperate to do something to help other people again after so long on the sidelines. It was hell seeing the news every day, seeing the horrible acts that for some reason people still committed and being stuck at home, wondering if he could have somehow stopped it. But he didn't say any of this.

Clint smiled reassuringly, but there were traces of worry around his eyes. "Peter, you're brave, but no one would think any less of you if you chose to sit this one out. Least of all me."

Strange cleared his throat, and Clint looked back at him in confusion. The doctor seemed almost guilty. "Actually, I'm afraid that we do need Mr Parker for this one."

"_We do?" _Asked Clint, rather more pointedly than Peter had heard him speak before. Dr Strange shot him a glare before continuing.

"Beyond the actual obtaining of the soul stone, we have the rest of the plan to consider. Mr Parker is the only one of us actually capable of entering the pocket dimension, let alone getting out again." He now directed his gaze towards Peter, who was more than a little startled by the news. "If we are going to do this, we will need your help. And it will very likely be dangerous. Will you think about accepting?"

Peter didn't need any time to think. "I'll do it." He said immediately. "Of course I'll do it."

Clint looked more worried now, but the doctor looked pleased.

"Thank you Mr Parker. Really."

Peter was glad to be helping, but it was going to be really hard to keep this from May _and _Mr Stark. "So, when do we... ah...leave? You know, for the past." _Wow, that felt so cool to say. _

"Certainly no later than a weeks time." Said Strange. "There are preparations to be made, but nothing that need concern you for now. In fact, I need nothing more from you today. Let me open a portal for you."

The doctor began to make the hand gestures that were almost becoming familiar to Peter, but he stopped the doctor quickly.

"No! Thank you sir, really, but I should probably... take the subway or something. Secret Identity and all that."

Strange nodded graciously. "Of course. I'll see you to the door." He stood up, and began to walk away from the chairs, thankfully not floating this time. Peter glanced back at Clint. The archer looked back, forehead heavily creased in what looked like concern. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then shut it again. Peter wanted to ask him if everything was ok, but Strange was moving further away, so he turned, and hurried after him. When they reached the front door, he turned to Strange, who looked at him expectantly.

"I was just wondering... how are we supposed to time travel without the machine that the others made? Wasn't it destroyed in the battle?"

Strange's was as usual, hard to read, but Peter thought he detected a hint of... smugness?

"Well," said the doctor in smooth, cultured tones, "at the risk of sounding insufferably arrogant... they didn't have me."

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It was late afternoon by the time Peter got back. It was a sunny day, so he had decided to make a detour to Central Park, and had grabbed some lunch. It had given him time to think about everything that Doctor Strange had said. He didn't feel nervous, though. He felt... excited. He was in a good mood when he entered his apartment.

"Hey, May!"

She was sitting at their small dining room table, phone in front of her, resting her head on her hands. She looked up when Peter came in, and alarm shot through him when he saw that she had been crying.

"May?" He whispered, moving to sit next to her. He was so afraid that something terrible had happened. What if... no. No, nobody else had died. They hadn't.

"May what's going on?" He asked, heart in his throat. He looked at her phone as if it would give him an answer. Confusion took the place of fear. That... that was _his _phone. Why did May have his phone?

May exhaled slowly, and raised her eyes to look at him. Peter almost reeled back. She was seething with anger, betrayal, and worst of all, hurt.

"You've been talking to Tony Stark?" She asked, her voice unusually thick, and her eyes glassy. Peter felt his insides collapse. May's next words were carefully controlled, but they still managed to crack like a whip.

"The lies are going to stop, Peter. They are going to stop. _Now._"


	13. Chapter 13

**So... it's been a while. In lieu of an apology, please accept this chapter. So many thanks to everyone who reviews, it is so lovely to hear from people that like the story, and please let me know if there's anything that can be improved. Suggestions are always good to hear. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 13**

"...what do you mean?" He tried to look innocent, but it was a weak attempt, and both he and May knew it. She closed her eyes slowly and sighed.

"Peter... don't."

In some ways, Peter had known this was coming. There was only one tactic he could think of to try. And besides, there were things he wanted to say as well.

"You lie too."

He tried to be defiant, but there was a quaver in his voice that he just couldn't keep out. May refused to look at him.

"That's different." she said, in a tone that was hardly convincing.

"HOW?" Shot back Peter, filled to the brim with righteous indignation. "Don't I deserve the truth as well? You said that you were dusted as well, or you let me think that anyway, but it's not true, is it? You really thought I wouldn't notice?"

"I just... I didn't want you to worry!" Said May plaintively, screwing her eyes shut and swiping at them haphazardly. A couple of tears escaped nonetheless, trailing down her cheeks in shimmery streaks. "You had so much to deal with already."

Peter snorted. "So you thought it was better to lie to me?" He grabbed his phone off the table and held it up. "You even went through my phone?" Suddenly the air became sharp and acidic, burning the inside of Peters nose. He started breathing through his mouth instead. He really wasn't in the mood for a sensory overload right now. His weird enhanced senses did that sometimes, kicking into overdrive for no apparent reason. He rolled his shoulders, trying to rid himself of the prickling sensation that was beginning to spread over his skin, and continued. "You thought I couldn't handle the truth. Poor little Peter. He's already lost his arm, and his friends! Oh, and he's not even Spiderman anymore! Let's all treat him like a baby and hope he doesn't have a- a- I dunno, mental breakdown or something!"

"Oh Peter, no!" Exclaimed May, shaking her head emphatically so that her hair whipped through the air. She stood up, and moved towards him, arms outstretched. Peter recoiled involuntarily, and May's shoulders slumped as she seemed to cave in somewhat, tears streaming unchecked now. Guilt struck Peter immediately. He hadn't meant to pull away, but he was heading for full blown sensory overload if he wasn't careful. The acrid smell of chemicals was assailing his nose and fogging up his brain. It didn't smell anything like the coconut shampoo that he knew May used. Even throat was stinging now and he found himself unable to communicate any of this to May as she tried desperately to explain to him.

"I could just never find the right moment- I thought things would be easier just while you were settling back in."

May didn't have superpowers, but she was one of the strongest people Peter had ever known, and it felt fundamentally wrong to see her so vulnerable. Even when Ben died... she had cried only a couple of times. After the funeral, she hadn't cried at all. She did yell. She yelled a lot, but only when Peter had done something stupid. He thought maybe she'd been doing a lot more crying lately, but she had always been pretty good at hiding whenever she was upset.

"How was I supposed to bring it up?" She asked. "I didn't _want _to bring it up. I was so- so happy that you were back! I'm _sorry _Peter. I just wanted to keep you safe."

"Bit late for that, isn't it?" Remarked Peter, trying to raise his injured arm and failing miserably. May looked at him, and even though she was still semi-crying, he could tell from her expression that she had made her mind up. He fully expected her to berate him soundly. But when she spoke, she just sounded _tired. _

"Yes, Peter. It was too late a long time ago. It was too late when you put on that suit and started sneaking out. It was too late when you followed Tony Stark to space and didn't come back for five years. It was _too late, _when I had to sit in that hospital and listen to the doctors _electrocute you _just to get your heart to restart! I'm a nurse. I had to sit there knowing exactly what was happening, and knowing there wasn't a single thing I could do about it. And it's not your fault. Not really." She glanced up at the ceiling as if searching for answers. The white paint was evidently giving her nothing, so she looked around the room, anywhere but at Peter, whose head was beginning to feel as if it was being crushed by Thanos himself. When she finally looked at him, she looked more sad than angry. "For God's sake you're still covered in bruises! But there's nothing I can do, is there?" He mouth threatened to crumple again as she spoke, her voice higher than usual. "There's nothing I can do to make you see what's happening. You practically worship the ground Tony Stark walks on, but you can't see the danger that just being around him puts you in. How many times have you been hurt because of a situation he's involved you in? He's _using_ you Peter. You really think he'd let his own daughter do what you do? Please, try and see it from my perspective. To him, we're expendable."

Those last words hit a little too close to home. They were pretty similar to many of Peters own fears, and he had to take a moment to remind himself that things weren't like that anymore.

"No."

Peter shook his head, which was a big, big mistake. The buzzing in his ears intensified until it reached a point somewhere above 'horde of angry bees' and just below 'power drill on steroids'. A groan escaped from his mouth, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He could vaguely hear May saying something, but everything was muffled. "No." He managed to force out, though his mouth felt as though it was stuffed with cotton balls. "He wouldn't- Mr Stark wouldn't- do that. You're wrong. He- he helps me."

At this point Peter wasn't sure whether he was speaking out loud or if everything was in his head but the walls of the apartment seemed to be closing in on him, and it was hot- so hot- why was it so _hot_? It felt as though his clothes were beginning to fuse with his skin. He had to get out or he was going to faint. Stumbling his way over to what he hoped was the front door, he groped for the latch and pulled. Something was tugging on his arm, and it hurt, so he jerked away swiftly. The stair bannister was cool to touch, but the air inside was stifling, and the fluorescent lighting was unbearable.

Somehow he made it outside. Here the air was much cooler, and he stood inhaling it madly, until suddenly everything became much worse. The apartment had been stuffy, but it was at least quiet. Out here there was so much noise. The constant rush of traffic, drivers beeping their horns at each other in anger. Roadworks that must have been at least a block away. Pedestrians chatting. It was as if he could hear every word separately, and all of them at once. They seemed to pound into his skull with excruciating precision, and even the street lights that were just beginning to turn on made his eyeballs throb. He could barely form coherent thought, and instead relied on instinct. Driven like an animal away from the bright lights and noise, he moved in a random direction, desperate for peace and quiet. As he fled from the busy streets, some people looked at him with concern, but others flinched away as if from a rabid dog. He wasn't sure how long it took, but eventually he reached an area that was dark, peaceful and cool. Somewhere with grass, and... trees? Wherever it was, it was at least quiet. Maybe his body had snapped out of panic mode, because all of a sudden he felt unbelievably exhausted, and put a hand out to the nearest tree before sliding down to rest against it. He leant his head back against the rough bark, breathing deeply in order to subdue the pounding of his head. The fresh air worked miracles on his ragged senses, and after a while he was able to think clearly again. He opened his eyes, and was surprised to see how dark it was getting. He tried to get up, but his legs seemed to have gained a similar consistency to jelly, so he gave up for the time being. It felt as though he had plunged his head into a vat of electric eels. Sensory overload was never fun, but this was one of the worst he had ever had. They also tended to leave him really tired, and he had to resist the urge to go to sleep right there and then, tempting though it was. He fumbled in his pocket for his phone, and was relieved to see when he pulled it out that there was a little charge left. He opened it up and pulled up his contacts, squinting at the glare of the screen. He scrolled through them. Who to call? May... no. Perhaps it was a cowardly decision, but he didn't want to go back there yet. Ned? No, if he remembered correctly Ned had gone to see that new horror film tonight. He had invited Peter along, but the thought of seeing more dead bodies had been... less than appealing. MJ? _No way in hell_. There was really only one viable option, and he pressed the button with a sigh.

The phone rang twice before being picked up. The other side of the line sounded busy. There were a lot of people in the background, and Peter wasn't sure if Tony had picked up deliberately.

"Umm... Mr Stark?"

When the reply came, it was crackly and sounded very distant. However, even bad signal couldn't diminish Tony's signature repartee.

"Hey kid. Calling to wish me luck? I'm touched, really."

Peter was confused. What was Tony on about now?

"Wish you luck?"

"Don't tell me you forgot." Tony sounded vaguely amused. "Woah not! - wait, hang on a sec kid." It sounded as though he was getting annoyed at somebody on the other side. It was a minute before he replied again.

"The press conference? The really important one we've been preparing for ages? The one in which I had planned to sing the praises of Spiderman to the world." He paused. "You haven't changed your mind, have you? You know, it's ok if you have, we can just miss that part out."

"Umm... no. No, it's all good. The press conference was tonight? I'm sorry, I forgot about that. Good luck."

"You ok, kid?" Murmured Tony. He sounded concerned. "You need help?"

Peter held the phone away from his face and sighed. Then he put the phone back to his ear, and cleared his throat in an attempt to make his voice less hoarse.

"Course not! It's nothing. I um- I hope tonight goes well." He could feel a wave of nausea coming on, and tried to cut short the phone call. "I uh- I gotta go. Bye."

He put his head between his knees and retched. When the dry heaving was over, he leant his head back against the tree and collapsed his eyes.

'_Just five minutes...' _he thought.

...

Tony stared intently at the blank screen of his cell. The unexpected phone call from Peter had been odd, but nothing particularly out of the ordinary. Nothing that would usually give him any cause to worry... but still. Tony had learnt the hard way not to ignore signals from the kid, and there had been something in his tone that just didn't sit right. He shrugged off the obnoxious techie that was trying to explain the microphones to him (Please! As if) and moved away from the bustle. He checked his watch and sucked in a breath. Ten minutes until he was supposed to be in front of the cameras. Pulling on his shades, he tapped the side to activate Friday.

"Fri?"

"Yes Boss?"

"We have any tracking devices on Spider-Man's phone?"

"We do not, Boss. If you like I can activate his suit tracker?"

"...no, he's not wearing it. Well, he better not be. Are you sure there's nothing? Find my friends? Some social media location?"

"I'm sorry Boss. Would you like me to hack into his phone and trace his last call to you?"

Tony hesitated. It was an invasion of privacy, but if Peter was in danger... anyway, the kid would never know, and if he was somewhere safe Tony would leave well alone and not bother him.

"Yeah, ok Fri. But just send me his location. I don't want to know anything else, got that?"

"Yes Boss."

Tony tapped his foot and waited for Friday to come back with an answer. Peter hadn't sounded too bad... but it just wasn't worth the risk.

"Boss. I have been successful in locating Peter Parker's phone."

Tony cupped his hand around the earpiece to make sure he heard correctly. "What is it Fri?"

The answer confused him even more. Something definitely felt off. What was Peter doing in a park so late at night? He knew teenagers sometimes hung out getting drunk in parks... could that be it? Maybe Peter needed a ride home, or a place to crash. He made up his mind to go and scout the place out, see if Peter was in trouble. If he wasn't, great, Tony would drive home and everything would be fine. And if he _was _in trouble... then Tony would do something to make the trouble run home to mother. Only problem was, there wasn't a snowballs chance in hell he would make it back in time for the press conference. He hurried over to the conference room entrance, and grabbed Sam Wilson before he could enter.

"Sam, I need you to do me a favour."

The other man eyed him suspiciously. "What's going on, Tony? Is this something I should let the others know about?"

Tony shook his head. "No, no. But look, I'm not going to be able to do the conference tonight. ...Family trouble. Think you and the others could cover for me? Besides, everyone knows you'll do a better job than me." He gave his best apologetic look (which, let's face it, was still not great), but Sam seemed to buy it, and eventually nodded. "Yeah, I'll sort it."

Tony nodded back. "Thanks Sam, I owe you one." He left the Falcon staring after him with a puzzled expression. As soon as he was away from prying eyes, particularly those holding cameras, Tony made his way into his car, and programmed in the coordinates that Friday had sent him. When he reached the park, his sense of unease increased massively. It was small, barely more than a patch of grass, but the tall trees made the darkness thick, and Tony had learned that things tend to sneak up on you in the dark. He activated his suit, just to be safe, and made his way into the trees. He switched on night vision. Immediately he saw a huddled shape next to one of the trees, and if he hadn't been wearing his suit he thought his heart might have dropped to the ground. He opened his visor and rushed over to the shape.

_Please don't be Peter, please don't be Peter, please don't be Peter. _

It was Peter. Tony crouched next to him, pushing down the dread that threatened to engulf him and scanned for injuries, anything that might explain Peter's current state. Heart rate was a little elevated, but nothing dangerous. He reached out, taking Peter by the shoulder and squeezing gently.

"Pete? Kiddo?"

To Tony's immense relief, Peter opened his eyes blearily. "Mr Stark?"

His voice was hoarse, but Tony was glad to hear it all the same.

"Yeah kid. You know, we really have to stop meeting like this."

Peter yawned. "...m' fine."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Uh huh. Lemme guess, just needed a nap, right?"

Peter blinked owlishly, and said nothing.

Tony sighed, and slid an arm under Peter's undamaged shoulder, trying to lift the boy up.

"C'mon kid. Give me a hand here, you're heavier than you look. Let's get you in the car." Peter began to cooperate, and within a minute or two Tony had got him strapped into the passenger seat. As he grabbed the wheel, he looked over at the boy. Peter was leaning his head against the window, and his hair was sticking to his forehead. He looked fast asleep, but as Tony reached for the ignition, he heard Peter say softly,

"Mr Stark?" Tony turned, but Peter's eyes were still closed.

"Yeah, kid?"

The boy sighed gently. "...can I... stay with you?"

Tony started the engine.

"Sure, kid. But don't think you're off the hook. Tomorrow, you're explaining _everything._"


	14. Chapter 14

_He had to be somewhere. Where... where was he supposed to be? He moved his legs- at least he thought he did- but either they weren't really moving or he just wasn't getting anywhere, and maybe that was the same thing, so it didn't really matter. There was a sense of urgency. He was running away from something. No... running towards something. Yes, towards something. But what? He had to get there. And there wasn't much time left. Ugh, why wouldn't his legs move? He would never get there in time. No, no. It couldn't happen like this, not like this, not like- Peter struggled desperately but it was futile. There was no time left, and he needed to- _

_No_.

"NO!"

Something was weighing on his chest, pressing him down in a suffocating embrace. Peter scrambled to push it off, springing into an upright position and blinking at the thin light that suffused through the curtains and revealed the contents of the room for what they were. He looked down at the ridiculously thick duvet he had pushed off so hastily, and wondered vaguely what it was that made it quite so fluffy. Probably angel feathers. Or the souls of marshmallows. Or maybe gold dust. Whatever it was, it was certainly expensive, and it took rather a lot of willpower to resist the urge to sink back down into the fluffy depths again. Instead, Peter relaxed his mind and tried his hardest to cling on to the last fragments of dream, before they slipped away forever. What was it he had been so desperate to do? It was always a bit discomforting to know he had dreamt, and not know what it was he had dreamt about... like his own mind was keeping secrets from him.

He tried to let his mind drift back to whence it came... but it was no use. Peter was well and truly awake now, and alert enough to remember what he had done the night before. Which meant... he must be at Mr Starks house. His throat constricted as he thought back to the previous nights events, and embarrassment at disrupting the press conference and making Tony take him home. He suddenly felt ill at ease lying in bed, so swung his legs over the side and stood up slowly. He wasn't in pain exactly, but there was always a certain stiffness after his senses went haywire, like an old deep muscle bruise.

Peter was fully clothed, but somebody (hopefully not Tony Stark) had removed his shoes, jacket and socks. He hunted through the room, making as little noise as possible, but these items were nowhere to be found. The room was nice, Peter noticed as he hunted for the missing articles. Like, really nice. The floor was smooth wood, with a large sheepskin rug in the middle that frankly looked comfy enough to sleep on by itself. There was a large wooden wardrobe in one corner, and a desk and chair by the window, the view from which was currently obscured by heavy curtains. It was a really, really nice room, but Peter had trouble reconciling the decor, tasteful though it was, with the flashy Tony Stark. The two just... didn't mesh. Like that weird Asian/Bulgarian fusion place he'd tried that one time. He supposed Pepper Potts must have decorated it. Peter almost seized up, horrified at the thought that Pepper might have helped put him to bed. He prayed fervently that it wasn't true, and shuddered at the thought. Although now he thought about it, if Pepper hadn't helped put him to bed then maybe Tony _had, _and that was even worse. Peter gulped. Tony was so rich they probably had a butler or something to do it for them. Yeah. It had to have been the butler. Peter really hoped it had been the butler. He padded over to the window and pulled open the curtains, allowing light to flood the room.

Peter did a double take when he saw the view. Where was this place? It was like the house was right in the middle of Central Park or something. There was a lake outside this window! An actual lake! With ducks! The only wildlife Peter ever saw from his bedroom window at home was the occasional rat. Sometimes the rat would have a fight with a pigeon. But that was rare, which was just as well, cause the rat always won anyway. But this was about as different to Queens as it was possible to get. The lake glistened in the sun, and the trees that lined the edge rustled gently in the breeze. Peter stretched out a hand, aiming an imaginary web shooter. '_What would happen if I swung from here.' _He wondered. It could be the ultimate rope swing, like something out of Indiana Jones. Then he remembered he didn't have his suit, nor any spare web shooters. But, he reasoned with growing optimism, now that he was here, perhaps Tony would let him have the suit back? That was, if he wasn't too annoyed at being made to miss the press conference. Still, at least he had let Peter stay. But maybe it was just for the night? Maybe Tony was going to pack him off home this morning! Peter deliberated for a minute before deciding to leave what he assumed to be the guest bedroom, and see if he could find Tony. By the looks of things it was still morning, as the sun was not yet high in the sky.

He turned to make the bed before he left, once again marvelling at the remarkable softness of the bedspread. He tucked in the corners of the duvet quickly, when the faint sound of footsteps along the corridor caught his attention. They got louder, and then stopped. Peter froze, expecting a knock on the door, but none came. Cautiously, he walked over to the door and pulled it open. He pulled a little harder than he had meant to, and the person on the other side jumped a little.

"Ms Potts!"

Peter had never formally met Pepper Potts. He'd never seen her at the avengers compound, and only once in passing at the tower. In fact, the most recent time he'd seen her had been during the last battle. When she wasn't covered in dust, she was one of the prettiest women Peter had ever seen. Smart too, and powerful, as MJ never failed to remind him and Ned. Entirely out of his league maybe, but still, Peter couldn't stop his brain short circuiting just a little bit. Pepper smiled at him, and Peter's brain gave one final spark, then died.

"Oh, you're awake." She said, lowering her hand from where it had been poised, about to knock. "I didn't want to wake you, but I did want to see if you were doing ok. How are you feeling?"

Peter felt his cheeks heat up. "You, uh. You did?" He stuttered. "That's really kind of you Ms Potts ma'am, but- I don't want to cause any fuss, I'm fine, honestly. Really."

"Peter, it's no trouble at all. As long as you're feeling better." She let out a gentle laugh. "I was really worried when Tony brought you home last night, but it was so late we thought it would be better to see how you were in the morning rather than taking you to the hospital. I'm so glad it's nothing serious."

Peter ducked his head, unsure of what to say to that. He noticed she was carrying a bundle of something under one arm. Pepper followed his gaze.

"Oh yes," she said, holding out the bundle to him with another bright smile, "I brought you some things. Just a towel and some clean clothes. Thought you might want to change."

Peter reached out and took them, still a little embarrassed that Ms Potts had gone to so much effort. She frowned, and mistook his hesitancy for distaste.

"They're all new, don't worry!" She hastened to reassure him, "Tony never wears half the things I buy him."

"No, that's fine!" Exclaimed Peter before she could get the wrong idea. The last thing he wanted was to seem ungrateful. "The clothes are great. The clothes are perfect! I'm sure they're very, um...stylish. Thank you."

"That's good. I hope they fit ok." Pepper Potts took a step back and motioned down the hall. "Bathroom's first on the right if you want a shower. Unless you want to have breakfast first? You must be absolutely starving." She eyed him critically. "In fact, wait right here, I'll bring you something up." She made to walk away, but Peter stopped her hurriedly.

"That's ok! Um, I can just come down for breakfast later. But... a shower sounds good?" No way was Peter going downstairs in last nights clothing, covered in what he sincerely hoped were mud stains.

"Sure, honey. You come down whenever you're ready."

Pepper sounded so understanding, and Peter felt a twang in his chest as he thought of May. He wondered what she was doing this morning, and if she was still upset with him. Pepper was looking at him with an odd expression, and Peter realised he must look absolutely miserable. He quickly pasted a smile on, but was taken by surprise when Pepper leant forward, and with one arm, gently enveloped him in a hug. Peter stood rooted to the ground, his wits having utterly abandoned him. Ms Potts. Was hugging him? Him Peter? Peter Parker Peter? One thought that circled round and round his head (as apparently there was nothing else in there), was this.

'_I bet MJ would be so jealous of me right now.'_

Pepper had avoided his damaged arm, but squeezed surprisingly tightly with the one she was using.

"I'm so glad you're here Peter." She said, letting him go and smiling again. "It's taken far too long."

She left, making her way to some unknown area of the house, leaving a star struck Peter to wonder what exactly it was that had just happened to him.

He emerged from the bathroom feeling considerably more refreshed than when he had entered. The aching in his muscles had subsided somewhat, and the clothes Pepper had given him were really comfortable. Way too expensive probably, but comfortable was making his way back down the hallway, when he heard the muffled sound of footsteps coming from behind him. He stood still to listen. The footsteps stopped abruptly, and Peter heard a very quiet gasp. He turned around, and was greeted with a completely unexpected sight. A very small, female version of Tony Stark was standing at the end of the corridor. Wearing... pink pyjamas?

The small Tony peered at him intently, and the surprising force behind her gaze was giving Peter the shivers. Suddenly the girls eyes widened, and she gave a tiny squeak before turning around and bolting away.

"Hey. Hey, wait up!" Peter headed after her. "Don't go!" He could have easily overtaken her as her legs were far shorter that his, but he stayed a few paces behind. She had seemed pretty spooked, and he had no idea why. He didn't look that scary, did he? Mini-Tony paused at the end of the corridor and spun back around to face him. She looked less scared than curious now. Peter crouched down closer to her eye level, and raised one hand, waving at her.

"Hey. I know who you are. You're Morgan, right?"

Peter wasn't certain, but unless Tony had somehow managed to shrink himself, become female, and take on a liking for pink pyjamas, he was pretty sure it was a solid guess. He must have been right anyway, because the small girl gave a sharp nod. Peter smiled at her.

"I'm Peter."

To his surprise, Morgan rolled her eyes in a disturbingly familiar manner, and said with exasperation,

"I know _that._"

Peter was a bit taken aback. "Oh. You...you do?" Then again, he supposed Tony or Pepper must have mentioned to Morgan that there was going to be a strange boy staying in her house. Made perfect sense really.

Morgan squinted at him. "How did you get out?"

"Um...sorry, what do you mean? Out of where?" Peter was beginning to feel out of the loop. It felt extremely weird to have a five year old know more than him. Morgan glanced around uneasily before creeping towards him. Peter stayed crouched as she beckoned him closer. Then, with a manner that suggested she was telling him a very big secret, Morgan whispered,

"_How did you get out of the picture?_"

"Huh?" Now Peter was even more confused. Morgan rolled her eyes again. "_You know." _She hissed. "_The picture on the shelf. The one with you and Daddy." _She seemed irritated at Peter's slowness, but Peter himself was just about beginning to figure out what she meant.

"Oh," he said, trying not to grin at the earnestness with which Morgan stared at him. "I wasn't really there. In the picture, I mean. I mean I was, but that's just... picture-me. The real me was... I uh, was...somewhere else."

"Then why do you look the same?" Morgan challenged him. "Daddy has more wrinkles, and his hair changed colour. Where are your wrinkles?"

That was pretty smart thinking for a five year old kid actually. Peter had to think about it.

"Well, uh, look!" He pointed to his injured arm, which was poking out the side of some cardigan, which, (no offence to Pepper) he could not imagine Tony being seen dead in. "Not exactly the same, see?"

It seemed to do the trick, and Morgan's face lost all of its suspicion. "It's Sunday," she said with a grin, "Mommy's making waffles. Do you like waffles?"

Peter gaped at her in mock horror. "Who doesn't like waffles?"

Morgan giggled, and Peter found himself grinning too.

"Let's go get some waffles!" Exclaimed Morgan, as she grabbed Peter's hand and pulled him along towards the stairs. Peter found he was actually quite happy to be dragged along behind. Besides, he could smell waffles coming from somewhere, and he really was pretty hungry.

In the space of about five minutes he was sitting at the table in the Stark family kitchen and working his way through a sizeable stack of waffles and bacon, the whole thing covered with maple syrup. As he ate, Morgan chattered away with occasional input from Pepper, and Peter wondered vaguely whether he had somehow dimension hopped and ended up in a parallel universe. Or possibly heaven.

"You want anything else Peter?" Asked Pepper. "Another waffle, some orange juice?"

"No thanks, Ms Potts!" Peter tried not to mumble as he shoved another piece of bacon into his mouth. "This is amazing, so nice of you! Why are you so much nicer than Mr Stark?"

"Hmm, theres a question for you." Said a familiar voice, just dripping with sarcasm. Peter froze, a forkful of waffle halfway to his mouth.

"Could it _possibly_ be," the voice continued, "because she doesn't have to go all over the state chasing Spiderlings who just can't seem to keep themselves out of trouble?"

Peter gulped, and glanced up to see Tony saunter over to Pepper, kiss her on the cheek, nab a slice of bacon, and slide into one of the empty seats at the table. He ruffled Morgan's hair before looking over at Peter and grinning suspiciously widely.

"Morning, Kid. Sleep well?"


	15. Chapter 15

**Hi guys… If I told you how sorry I am for the late updates, would you believe me? I really am, but the truth is, I'm struggling a bit with this story. Don't panic! I am definitely keeping it up, and I have a clear view of what is going to happen, but as the plot gets more complicated the chapters take a lot longer to write, and when you add that to everything else in life that has to be balanced, what used to take me hours now takes me weeks. I am also thinking of trying a beta reader, just to keep me straight and bounce ideas off. As always, thank you so much to my reviewers. You are what keeps this story up and running, and if anyone has any ideas or questions I am always so happy to hear other opinions, flattering or not. Please let me know if the characterisation of Peter and Tony is ok. Call me crazy, but it's hard to put myself in the shoes of literal superheroes. Ok, now you can ignore this and move on to the chapter, which is what you're all here for. Enjoy!**

"But let's be real," said Peter, putting on his best serious face, "Ms Potts is a lot nicer than you ever were."

Tony shrugged. "Won't argue with you there." He considered for a moment, before saying in a mock-whisper,

"Probably shouldn't either, if I want to live past fifty-five"

This earned him a rather soft glare from Pepper, to which he replied with a sunny grin, then turned back to Peter, who was still adjusting to the sight of family man Tony. He was wearing a T shirt picturing a man in... a schoolboys outfit...with wires coming out of his hands. Pretty standard for Tony, at least when he was working in the lab. _Definitely_ better than the tank top he wore that one time. But it wasn't the outfit that was throwing Peter off. Tony just seemed...different. Lighter, somehow. Less defensive, more... for lack of a better word, Peter would have said _goofy._ He realised that this must have been the first time he had ever seen Tony truly happy. He felt an odd twinge through his chest. Peter figured it must have been leftover muscle pain from his breakdown the night before. His mouth went dry as he thought of May, and he put down his fork, his appetite gone. Tony frowned at him, and Peter really hoped he wasn't going to bring up the events of the night before. Not straight after breakfast, anyway. Luckily he was saved from an interrogation by Morgan, who had taken it upon herself to climb onto Tony's lap and beg to be allowed outside to play. Once again, Peter was struck by the uncanny similarities between the two. Tony laughed as he unlatched her arms and set her on the floor.

"Not while you're in pyjamas. I'll take you out to play later, m'kay?"

"I'll go get her dressed, Tony, if you and Peter want to wash the dishes." Said Pepper, taking Morgan by the hand and leading her away. Morgan dutifully plodded away with such a mournful face, Peter would have thought she was being led out to face the firing squad. He grabbed his plate and started stacking the others, while Tony turned on the tap, adding a generous squeeze of washing liquid.

"I'll wash, you dry?" Suggested Tony, and Peter agreed. They made small talk as they cleaned. Well, talk of some kind, anyway. Peter told Tony about the difficulties adjusting to life five years in his future; about all the people he had grown up with, who had now grown up without him. About the school struggling to cope with the influx of new students. Tony seemed slightly too interested in the resources they were missing, and Peter suspected that soon Midtown S&T wouldn't be missing quite so many resources. Tony, for his part, told Peter about everything he'd missed in the last five years. He fudged the beginning pretty well, something Peter appreciated, but he also told him about some of the good things that had happened. The whales in the Hudson. The huge decrease in poverty levels. Some little things, like the building of his house on the lake. Some not so little things, like the stories of incredible human kindness that, as Tony remarked 'were always brought out in a crisis rather than any other time.' Peter contested that, arguing that people just noticed them more in a crisis because they needed them that much more. They covered a lot of topics, but managed to skirt around the uncomfortable ones. Peter wasn't sure where to begin, wasn't even sure he wanted to begin at all. In the end, the choice was taken from him. As Tony scrubbed bacon grease off of a particularly stubborn pan, Peter was left with nothing to dry. Looking up from the draining board, he began to inspect the contents of the shelf that was situated at a perfect height for snooping. Inviting it, really. Sadly, there wasn't much of interest. A few brass pots, some salt and pepper shakers, glasses... a picture, was that Tony's father? Maybe Pepper's dad, actually. Peter couldn't see a resemblance to Tony. But there was another one, tucked in behind it… Struck by a weird sense of nostalgia, he reached over and manoeuvred the smaller picture out from behind the large one. He noticed that most things on the shelf were covered with a thin film of dust, but the glass on this picture was dirt free. Peter stared. He'd forgotten all about this picture. He hadn't even realised Tony had a copy... Peter looked up at Tony, who had stopped attacking the pan and was looking directly at Peter, his expression unreadable. Peter felt a slight, stupid prickling at the back of his throat. Tony had returned to scrubbing the pan, staring studiously at the soapy water. Peter looked back at the photograph, where a mini version of himself was grinning madly, holding up a pair of bunny ears over the billionaire himself. He felt as if he had intruded on something private, which was odd considering he himself was in the photo. But it all felt so long ago. The Peter in the photo was a completely different boy. And somehow the new Peter felt like an imposter.

"Y,know," said Tony, breaking Peter out of his thoughts with a start,

"We could set up a real Stark internship, if you want. Not a sham one like that." He said, nodding at the picture frame, still clutched between Peter's fingers. "Although," he went on, still scrubbing at the same pan, "I suppose it wasn't really a sham, you still wound up cluttering up my lab half the time, but if you wanted something more... official. We could do that."

"Yeah, no, well...I mean that sounds great and all, I just... there's a lot going on, at the moment."

Peter gulped. This was as good a moment as any, to tell Tony about his meeting with Clint and Doctor Strange. He was going to do it. He was. He- it was no use. He couldn't do it. He slid the picture back onto the shelf, as the familiar weight of deception settled itself firmly back on his shoulders. Better to let Tony thing that 'a lot going on' constituted schoolwork and May. And thinking of school...

"How am I going to get to school tomorrow?"

He had accidentally spoken aloud, but it was a valid question. When he looked at Tony, the man looked rather pleased with himself. Peter wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not.

"Ah." He said, finally giving up on the pan, and handing it to Peter.

"Well, you don't have to worry about that. I left a message with them this morning to say you'd be taking a couple of days off. I said it was for the internship, but-" he added hastily, "- of course that's not an obligation, that was just an excuse I used."

Peter nodded slowly. He didn't need spider sense to know that the conversation was headed for a place he was still reluctant to go.

"I hope that's ok." continued Tony. "I just thought you could use a break, kid. You really went through the wringer the other night, by the looks of things. I also left a message with your Aunt May."

Anything Peter might have been about to say was abruptly cut off as Tony raised a hand.

"Now, before you start banging on about a betrayal of trust or whatever, I had to do it, as part of being a responsible adult. I think that's what Pepper said anyway, and May doesn't know this address, but she does know that you're fine, and that you asked to come stay with me and Pepper. I didn't tell her about the state I found you in the other night either, but we're gonna get to that too at some point."

"Do we have to talk about it now?" Asked Peter. His voice came out disconcertingly small.

Tony shook his head. "No."

He gathered up the dry pans off the draining board and started putting them away. Peter heard a thumping noise coming from the second floor. Tony evidently heard it too, as he groaned and straightened up, staring at the staircase with resignation in his eyes.

"However," said Tony "we are going to have to take the creature out to the lake."

Peter was confused. "Wait, this isn't like, a Frankenstein situation or something, is it? Cause I didn't even think you did that kind of scien- oh. You meant Morgan. Gotcha."

"Come on." Tony began walking what turned out to be the porch. "You can borrow some wellies."

.

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.

They stood on the lake shore as Peter tried his best to explain his sensory overload to Tony. It was strange though, because standing there, he couldn't imagine ever having another one. It was just so _peaceful. _The waves on the lake rippled gently, and although the breeze was blowing towards Peter, for once it didn't bring smoke and petrol with it. Just the scent of soil and pine needles. There was a distinct chill settling in, not surprising considering it was practically December, but the sky was clear and the sun was bright, if weak. Peter was pretty toasty anyway, in a borrowed jacket and boots of Tony's. They fit surprisingly well, considering their difference in size. Morgan looked like a marshmallow, all bundled up in a large pink jacket. She was right at the waters edge, pelting bread at a few ducks who seemed less than impressed.

"So let me get this straight," said Tony. "Your senses went all haywire and you went to a park to chill out." He snorted loudly, and smirked, looking at Peter as if he'd come to a profound realisation. "Figures. I always thought you were part Labrador."

"I- wha- excuse me! I am not!" Peter sputtered incoherently.

Tony spread his hands wide and sucked in a breath, looking back at Peter apologetically.

"You do spend a lot of time chasing cats."

"_Rescuing _them from trees! Come _on, _Mr Stark!"

"The facts speak for themselves, Pete."

Tony snickered and Peter rolled his eyes, a smile making its way into his face despite his best efforts. He recognised Tony's ribbing for what it was; a way to lighten the mood and make Peter feel better, and he was grateful for it. But he knew he had to be honest- well, at least partially honest with Tony.

"The truth is,"

His mouth had become irritatingly dry.

"Aunt May… She found out we were in contact. She thinks that- she doesn't realise that you're as against me working as Spiderman again for a while as she is. She thinks that I'm going to get hurt again. We had a fight. A pretty big one."

Peter couldn't bring himself to tell Tony all of what May had said. She had way overreacted anyway. Yes, he was planning on going into the past to steal an infinity stone and use it to rescue one of the other avengers, but it wasn't as if _Tony_ knew that. Speaking of, he really needed to find his phone so he could find out if Clint or Strange had made any progress. And before anyone else saw anything. Just thinking about the plan was setting him on edge, and he almost jumped out of his skin when Tony patted him hesitantly on the shoulder.

"Um… Thats my bad, kid, I'm sorry." Said Tony, putting his hands in his pockets and staring out across the lake. He looked across at Peter.

"You might not want to hear this right now, but at some point you have to go talk to her. You're all she has, and until recently she didn't have you at all." He sighed. "I can't say I blame her for her reaction, I knew how she felt and I should have stayed well back."

"It wasn't your fault!" Replied Peter hotly. He rolled his eyes. "If you and May stopped playing the blame game for a second you'd realise you're both trying to do the exact same thing here! Y'know, keeping me in bubble wrap until I'm 20."

"Don't be ridiculous Pete. Until you're 40, at least."

As it turned out, Morgan had ideas for playing by the lake that didn't involve standing around talking, and Peter was her chosen victim. He found himself taking on various roles, most of them playing the villain to Morgans hero. Tony was all too happy to watch and mock him, but when he was called upon to be Pegasus for Morgan, who was at that moment a Valkyrie, he did it with a surprisingly pleasant attitude. That was, after the muttered threats of violence that were to be enacted if Peter ever mentioned this to anyone. For a while, Peter forgot all about May, and Nat, and had more fun than he had had in a long time. He was itching to show this place to Ned. There were so many places to explore, and he was certain that Ned had never been this far from a city before. After what seemed like hours, Morgan began to complain of starvation, and they made their way back to the house. As Peter took his jacket off, one of the zippers caught on his sling, tugging on it and sending a jarring spike of pain up his arm.

"Shoot!"

He clenched his teeth. The arm stopped hurting pretty quickly. He just hoped Tony didn't notice. However, the look on the man's face when he looked over told a different story. Peter sighed.

"I know, I know," he said, trying for a realistic grin. "guess I won't be doing much cat rescuing for a while, huh?"

Tony looked away without saying anything, and though he knew it was stupid, Peter felt ashamed of his weakness. Manoeuvring his wellies off with one arm, he followed Tony wordlessly to the kitchen. He chatted with Pepper and Morgan over lunch, but his earlier enthusiasm had gone, and it wasn't coming back anytime soon. Which was a shame, really, cause the lunch was amazing, and deserved way more enthusiasm than it got. When they had pretty much finished eating, Tony turned to Peter.

"You got any plans for the afternoon?"

A bit confused, Peter shook his head. "I don't think so?"

Tony nodded. "Good. I've got something to show you." He turned to Pepper. "Mind if we split honey? I'm gonna take him up to the top floor."

She raised one eyebrow. 'Fine by me. I'm meeting Janice for dinner, and Morgan's having a sleepover with one of the girls from kindergarten so you've got the whole evening."

Tony grinned. "Thanks honey."

Peter was suspicious.

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"Ok…" Peter tried his best to peer around Tony as he opened what looked like the door to a nuclear bunker.

"I had no idea that whatever _this _is, was the entire top floor of your house. Um… What _is _it, anyway?

The enormous steel door slid into the wall noiselessly as Tony spread his arms wide.

"Welcome to the workshop."

When Peter eventually managed to form words, they weren't impressive.

"_Nuh uh. _No way!"

Tony was looking smug, but in this case it was totally justified. Peter shook his head repeatedly as he tried to take it all in.

"Nah Mr Stark, no way. This isn't a workshop. A _workshop _is like, a tool bench and, I dunno, a car or something. Pottery maybe. This is… I don't even know what this is."

"Good, isn't it."

Tony gestured proudly across the room, past the rows of gleaming metal suits in their cases, and the cluttered workstations, and the freaking _holograms. _Peter was completely awestruck. Tony continued to talk, as usual, pleased to show off at any opportunity.

"I tried the whole garage amateur thing for a while, couldn't hack it. It's not as good as the labs at the old compound of course, but boy am I glad I moved my favourite projects here before the battle. What do you think?"

"It's awesome. Oh my god, it's awesome."

Peter couldn't believe his luck. This tech was incredible. He began to feel a familiar restlessness as he itched to look at everything. He had so many questions.

"Are you- are you gonna be working in here? Can I help? I don't even mind just handing you tools and stuff, but I can watch and learn, and-"

"I knew you'd appreciate it." Tony grinned widely at Peter. "Pepper pretends it doesn't exist, and Morgan's not getting within 50 yards of this place until she's old enough to tie her own shoelaces. But,"

He began weaving his way through the tables, until he reached one that was covered with an old, oil stained sheet.

"that's not actually what I wanted to show you."

In one fluid motion Tony swept the sheet off the table and cast it aside.

"This is."


	16. Chapter 16

Peter couldn't believe what he was seeing. He had almost forgotten what it looked like. He thought for a moment that Tony was playing some kind of prank, because Peter hadn't expected to see this, well, _ever _again.

"That's my suit."

He looked at Tony, hoping for some explanation. His statement hadn't been a question exactly, but he hoped an answer would be forthcoming.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Real observant. Well," he amended, crossing his arms and looking critically at the workstation, "It is and it isn't. Your suit, that is. Some of the individual parts are recycled, but most of the original was pretty trashed. I had to make some serious adjustments."

Somehow, Tony didn't seem too annoyed about that. Peter knew him well enough by now to know that he probably enjoyed rebuilding Peter's suit the same way he constantly upgraded his own.

"Plus," Tony continued, "There's the small matter of actual ownership." He suddenly became serious, forcing Peter to look him straight in the eye.

"You are a long, long way off being allowed to use this thing again. I'm only showing it to you because I think maybe if you have to help build this thing yourself you might not be so eager to _destroy _it next time. And if you're going to take time off school you may as well do something useful while you're at it. But for now this suit stays locked up nice and tight in the lab, capisce?"

Peter nodded. Tony seemed surprised, and frowned a little.

"What, no backchat? Ok… Good. That's that then."

Peter moved closer to the suit, reaching out to brush his fingertips over the surface. H inspected it further, testing the weight.

"Did you change the alloy?" He glanced at Tony to confirm. The man smiled.

"Very good. I figured with your specific skill set we should aim for maximum flexibility. I tinkered with it for a while though, just to make sure the overall strength wasn't affected. Here, let me show you some of the special features."

They spent the next few hours working on the suit, going over the small details left unfinished. Tony watched Peter like a hawk, and double checked anything he did, critiquing his technique at every turn, but Peter found that he didn't mind at all. He was working on his suit with Tony Stark! Tony was letting him work on his suit! And the suit itself was brilliant. Not quite Iron Spider level, but far, far better than before. Or, it would be when it was finished. Peter was just thrilled that it hadn't been destroyed completely. He hadn't had access to any chemicals for a while, and he was 99.9% sure May had got rid of his old homemade web shooters. Tony had even reinstalled Karen, and he let Peter switch her on for a while before getting annoyed when Peter constantly used her to play music that Tony didn't approve of.

"You need a real musical education." he said, scoffing at most of Peter's choices.

"Past the 90s music went to shit. AC/DC, Queen, The Who, now _they _were classics. Legends, all of them."

"I do like some rock!" Offered Peter. "I like the Ramones."

Tony just shook his head and stared at the ceiling, aghast.

"Punk." He said with despair. "The boy likes punk, and he has the nerve to call it rock."

From then on, Tony was in charge of the playlist. And it wasn't bad either. Occasionally Peter managed to slip in something a little more recent than the 80s, which was just about tolerated. But, slightly outdated music aside, things couldn't have been better.

There was only one downside to the whole thing. The workshop was Peter's personal idea of heaven (although he'd had to reevaluate his ideas a bit after dying for real) but as soon as he had seen the suit, he had seen the problem. And it wasn't going away, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. They had been working for hours, and Peter knew he should have said something earlier but he just hadn't been able to bring himself to do it. Still, they were just wasting time until he did, so eventually he managed to work up the nerve.

"Um…Mr Stark?"

Tony grunted, and didn't look around as he adjusted some plans using one of the holograms. Actually, not having to look Tony in the eye was preferable, so Peter decided to just go ahead.

"Mr Stark, I can't use this suit."

_'__Oh, now he looks around.' _Thought Peter. '_Perfect_'

"Well, no, obviously not." Said Tony, looking quizzically at Peter. "Didn't we go over this already?'

"No, I mean, yes." Peter felt his cheeks begin to heat up as he tripped over his words. Tony raised an eyebrow.

"Yes or no kid, which is it?"

Peter sighed. 'I mean… I can't use this suit, at all. Not…like this."

Tony looked hard at him, eyes wide, hand outstretched. "I got nothing, kid. You gonna tell me what's going on?"

With a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, using his left hand Peter gestured to the arm still contained in a sling.

"The suit's not set up for my arm."

"Well, _nooooo._"

Tony spoke as if Peter had suddenly suffered a significant drop in IQ, but he was beginning to look pretty spooked.

"Its not set up _now _obviously, but by the time you're allowed back onto the streets as Spiderman your arm will be completely healed. You didn't think I'd be letting you try it on at any point, did you?"

Peter shook his head. "No, you're not getting it."

"What exactly am I not getting?" The voice was hard, flat.

"My arm isn't going to heal. I'll be like this forever."

"Yes, _it is._" Tony spoke a lot more forcefully now.

"No. It's not."

"Pete. Quit with the melodrama, please. It's just taking a while, that's all. You have to give it time."

"I have given it time!" Exclaimed Peter. "Lots and lots of time! But there's no improvement, Mr Stark. None."

"Have you been doing the exercises from the physio?" Asked Tony. It still didn't seem to have cracked the surface with him, and Peter hated, really, really hated having to explain it further. Because that made it real.

"I stopped going to the physio weeks ago. There was no point. They couldn't do anything more. The doctors said the nerve damage extends all the way to my shoulder, and it's not gonna repair itself."

"Then we'll get you better doctors."

"Mr Stark."

Peter hadn't said this to anyone yet, not even May. She had kept him on a military regimen of exercises, creams, everything but the kitchen sink, and Peter just hadn't had the heart to tell her that none of it was working.

"Mr Stark, the doctors recommended amputation."

"Nope. Nuh uh. We're not doing that." Tony turned away from him and continued scrutinising the schematics hovering in the air.

"We'll find you better doctors and better physios. You're just getting downhearted what with the long road to recovery and all."

Gritting his teeth, Peter pushed down his irritation and continued trying to get his point across to Tony.

"There's no point. This isn't something that can be fixed with doctors or medicine. It's _permanent. _They know by now it's not getting any better."

"Well, what about a brace, like Rhodeys?"

More shaking of the head. It wasn't like Peter didn't appreciate Tony's optimism, but he knew in his heart that things weren't going to get better. He just wanted rid of this stupid arm once and for all.

"It's not a big deal, really. Y'know, I saw a guy during the battle at the compound with a metal arm. Maybe I could get one of those?"

…

Tony was struggling to come to terms with it. Had things really got so bad that the kid needed _amputation_? He was no stranger to prosthetics himself, and yeah, sometimes they were necessary, but Peter was so young… And talented. And he shouldn't have used the infinity gauntlet in the first place, it just wasn't fair. The familiar guilt was worming its way past his shoulders, like it had never left.

"Be a lot harder to do your fancy acrobatics with a prosthetic arm."

Maybe if he could just convince the kid to wait a little longer, steer him away from amputation until Tony had the chance to get some expert opinions. He wondered if he should get Strange involved.

"Not exactly doing any stunts at the moment though am I." The kid sounded almost belligerent, an unusual tone for him.

Looked like Peter had made his mind up. Tony's fingers tapped nervously upon the table.

"Look, Kid… The way I see it, even if your arm was in tip top shape, you're not going to be using the suit anytime soon. And you have to speak to May before doing anything else. So there's no harm in waiting a bit longer, is there?"

Peter looked as though he was struggling to say something. Tony was pretty sure he had him beat. Eventually the kid gave in, but he didn't look happy about it. His face was doing that kicked puppy thing that always left an uncomfortable twisting in Tony's stomach. They decided to turn in for the night.

"You haven't seen my phone at all have you?" Asked Peter as they left the workshop for the night.

"It wasn't with your stuff? Oh, um, check the car."

He handed over the keys, and the boy went off in search of his phone. Tony went to bed. He tossed and turned for a while, but couldn't seem to get comfortable. The thought of Peter with a metal arm…it was just wrong. Tony was sure he could make a good one, definitely better than any currently on the market, but that wasn't really the point. The point was, Peter had suffered enough already. For a minute there he really had thought the kid had been given a free pass.

'_I guess that was just a bit too much to ask for._' Thought Tony as he stared at the ceiling. He wouldn't be getting much rest tonight.

…

Peter was currently wedged between the dashboard and the front seat of Tony's sports car. The garage was dimly lit, but his enhanced eyesight made it easier to see under the seats. His phone was lying just a little too far under, and he had to wriggle almost onto his back to fit his left arm far enough through. His fingers scrabbled for a few seconds before finding their target, and with some difficulty, and a few complaints from his damaged arm, he was able to pull it out.

"_Please have some battery, please have some battery._" He muttered under his breath as he pressed the on button. He sank into the front seat, filled with a mixture of relief and apprehension as a white symbol flashed on the dark screen. A few seconds later the phone turned on. His screensaver was a picture of the academic decathlon team after the infamous Washington trip. Most of the team was standing in front of the monument, looking shaken. Flash was clutching the trophy with a look of abject misery. There was a smudge of red and blue in the background that Peter was pretty certain was him, just about to make his getaway. I had made him laugh the first time he had seen it, on an online blog. Taken on someones phone, so he had kept it, and hadn't changed it since. Not that you could see much of the picture now, obscured as it was by multiple messages. One or two from Ned, he scrolled past those. A few from May. That was to be expected, but he scrolled past those all the same. At the bottom there was a voicemail, from an unknown number. Peter pressed the button, and held the phone to his ear.

The voice came through much louder than he was expecting, and he scrambled to turn it down. Not that there was anyone around to hear, but still.

"_Parker. Thursday morning, eight o'clock. You know the place. Hope to see you there." _

The phone beeped. That was all. Peter's hand fell to his lap. Thursday… that was only three days away. Chills began creeping up Peter's spine. Was he really going to do this? Tony would be furious, May even more so. But _only _if they found out. Doctor Strange was using time travel, Peter could be gone and back in the space of a minute and they would never even have to know…Until Nat was around again, and then maybe they would be pleased… These were white lies, and if it worked then everything would be worth it. Didn't change the fact that he hated lying to Tony.

Peter made his way through the house, and into the extremely luxurious bed with a hollow feeling in his chest, and a feverish nervousness taking over his body. It looked like he would be needing the suit soon after all.

**Yes, this chapter is a little shorter than usual, but on the bright side… it's another chapter? Sorry if the reveal wasn't quite as exciting as you hoped. Action will be coming fast in the next chapters so please stay tuned for more! Also, I wasn't sure if maybe the whole thing with the arm was more dramatic than it needed to be? I mean, I know if I was in that situation it would seem like a big deal… but maybe it's not? Hope you enjoyed. **


	17. Chapter 17

**Here we go again! A million thanks to my amazing reviewers. You are all wonderful. One of you, xSaphirexRosesxFanx put forward some ideas, for which I say thank you very much! All ideas or thoughts are appreciated as I am always looking for inspiration. I do intend to use your excellent idea about Dr Strange at some point, but I am a complete sucker for some drama and couldn't resist making things just that little bit more difficult for Peter! **

**Hope you all enjoy! (Please bear in mind I am finishing this at about 1:30 am, so who even knows what my brain is doing? Be kind please)**

To say the next couple of days were perfect would have been a lie. Everything Peter did, whether it was messing about in the workshop with Tony, or playing hide and seek through the house with Morgan, was overshadowed by the thought of his imminent departure, and the ramifications that he knew he would have to face at some point. He had thought about telling Tony the truth. He wanted to. Putting all of his trust in two people he barely knew was harder than he thought it would be, and the one person whose opinion on the whole escapade he would have valued above all else, was the one person Peter really, really, couldn't tell. So… the pressure was mounting. But despite the massive, potentially catastrophic secret he was carrying around, Peter was enjoying himself. And yeah, it wasn't perfect.

But it was pretty damn close.

It took him a while to get used to the silence at first. Queens was always noisy, even in the hours when Spiderman used to be busiest, the hours when any sensible person was tucked away safely in bed. They weren't that far from the city, only just over an hours drive (it made sense since Pepper and technically Tony still worked there), but the difference was incredible. When he was little, Peter had gone through a phase of watching nature documentaries. He had wanted to be an explorer, finding and photographing elusive animals in the most extreme parts of the earth. He tried once or twice peeking through his curtains at night, pretending he was in a hide, observing the native wildlife, but stopped pretty quickly when he realised there was nothing much to see besides angry drunks and headlights. Out by the lake, even Peter's enhanced ears struggled to pick up much other than the occasional hoot of an owl, or the wind through the trees. It didn't take him long to get used to it, and once he had, he found himself sleeping far more heavily than he had for a long while. And Peter appreciated his sleep as much as any other 16 year old, but the days were _so _worth struggling out of bed for.

Tony had decided to take a couple of days off, and he and Peter spent the majority of their time in the workshop. Peter's suit was *this* close to being finished, so mostly they worked on other projects. The really good stuff, the stuff that was going to be manufactured by Stark Industries, or sold to the government, all of that was in development at labs in the city, but Tony had a few pet projects that Peter, much to his disbelief, was allowed to help with. They quickly settled back into the easy camaraderie they had had before Thanos, and hours flew by unnoticed inside the workshop. There was some seriously cool alien tech that had been salvaged from various battles, including the latest. At the moment they were experimenting with some chemicals extracted from some sort of laser weaponry. If they could synthesise it, Tony was hoping to look into it as a renewable fuel source. Although he was pretty chilled about a lot of things, Tony was adamant that they both wore full protective gear when working with the chemicals. Some of them were pretty nasty, and between the two of them they had had more life threatening injuries than most people got in a lifetime. Peter wasn't complaining though. He'd choose this over calculus any day. But the workshop wasn't even the best part.

Peter had never been lonely growing up. He'd thought about having siblings, thought it might be nice, but he'd never felt like anything was missing. He and May were a unit, and that was the way it was supposed to be. So it took him by surprise when the part of the day he looked forward to the most was when Morgan came home from kindergarten. He knew part of it was probably the novelty for her, but as soon as she got home she would fling her shoes off in the hallway and run to find Peter, talking a mile a minute about her day. She had absolutely zero filter, and Peter could tell that when she got a bit older she would probably be spouting more zippy one-liners than her dad. She was also ecstatic to have a willing playmate in Peter.

"Don't be afraid to tell her no. She can be a tyrant at times." Snickered Tony, looking on in amusement at Peter, who was seated as the guest of honour at a tea party with some very interesting guests, including but not limited to, a stuffed hippo, an Iron Man figurine, and something Morgan had made at kindergarten that Peter was pretty sure was supposed to be the incredible hulk. But he wasn't quite sure enough to ask.

"Thats alright Mr Stark." He found himself grinning at Tony.

"I don't mind, I never had a little brother or sister before!" He realised the implications of what he had said, and felt himself blush, as he tried unsuccessfully to explain himself.

"Not that I'm saying she's my sister!" But obviously I would look out for her like a sister- all I meant was-"

He stuttered and carried on digging a hole for himself as Tony waved a hand regally in the air.

"Yeah, I know what you meant kid. And might I say, you're the belle of the ball in that tiara."

"…

…Shut up."

Peter felt beyond lucky to have the Starks let him into their lives. How he, out of everyone else more worthy, had managed to wind up like this was beyond him. And even as he lay in the guest bedroom at night, working out a plan to take advantage of these generous people and spit on everything they had tried to give him, he held on to the lingering hope that maybe, if he, Clint, and Dr Strange were successful in rescuing Nat, then maybe they wouldn't be too mad… maybe Tony would see that he really was just trying to help…maybe.

Then Wednesday came. And everything went wrong.

Maybe it was because Peter was distracted from the start. He couldn't keep his fingers still all day, and more than once he zoned out while Tony was trying to talk to him. He was sure he must have looked guilty, but Tony never questioned it. They were in the workshop, had been all day. Morgan had been disgruntled when Peter wasn't able to play for as long as usual, but they were processing some of the chemicals and it required constant supervision.

He should have known better.

It was just after five when the car alarms went off in the garage. Peter acted surprised and tried to ignore the sweating of his palms. He kept telling himself he had no other choice. Tony wouldn't let him know the access code for the workshop, for precisely this reason. Somehow, telling himself that didn't make him feel any better. It had been almost too easy to rig the alarms, but Peter wasn't a criminal, not a real one anyway, and he just prayed he had covered his tracks well enough that Tony wouldn't figure it out, at least until the next day, when it would be too late. As planned, Tony removed his gloves and goggles and went downstairs, muttering in annoyance. The door gaped behind him. As soon as he was gone, Peter sprang into action. He weaved his way through the workstations until he reached the one covered by a sheet. Luckily his suit wasn't in a display case yet or this would have been impossible to pull off. It was risky enough as it was. He pulled his suit from under the sheet and stuffed a hoodie in its place, rearranging some items to make it appear as though there was still something underneath. Once satisfied by the result, he raced from the room and leapt down the stairs as lightly as he could. He stuffed the suit into a plastic bag and lifted up the mattress, sliding it in. He took a minute to make the bed, fluffing up the duvet and analysing it from every angle. If anyone for any reason entered his room, he was fairly certain they wouldn't see anything out of the ordinary. Walking out onto the landing, he jumped as he heard footsteps on the stairs. Tony looked at him quizzically, and Peter froze like a deer caught in headlights.

"Pete… what are you doing?" Tony sounded really confused.

"…Um- I needed to use the bathroom?"

Now Tony looked highly apprehensive. "What did you do with the-"

He stopped short as a high pitched yelp sounded from upstairs, and his face turned gray. Then he started moved at an impossible speed, sprinting up the stairs three at a time, with Peter close behind. Peter saw the open door, before realisation hit him with all the force of a freight train. Tony was crouched in front of Morgan, who was wailing softly. Her- oh god, _what had he done_? Morgan's hand, parts of her neck, even- even parts of her face were a bright violent red, and already blistering horribly. The broken glass on the floor and the acrid smell in the air told the whole story, Peter's hands shook uncontrollably and his breathing came unevenly.

"Oh god, what- is she gonna be ok? What can I do? I'm so sorry! Morgan, I'm so sorry!"

He wanted to help but his legs didn't seem to be working, and he just stood there, uselessly. Tony didn't bother answering. He murmured some words of reassurance to Morgan, but Peter could hear the panic in his voice. Picking her up with incredible gentleness, Tony walked towards the door.

"Mr Stark, is she gonna be ok? I didn't- I didn't mean to- is there anything I can do?"

"Just stay back Peter! Don't do anything else."

The words were measured, probably more for Morgans benefit than anything else, but they hit home. Peter could hear the anger in Tony's voice loud and clear, and what's more, he knew he deserved it. He watched them go, heard the car leave, and it was a good while before he was able to move again.

He cleaned up the spilled chemicals, and tried to pick up the broken glass, but his hands were still trembling and he had to give up as he dropped it for the third time. He sat, leaning against the workstation, and put his head in his hand. The fumes were making him dizzy. Oh god, what had he done? Of all the stupid- Tony would never forgive him. And _Morgan. What had he done to her_? The horrible image of the blisters on her face just wouldn't leave him- what if it was permanent? And all because of his selfishness. And stupidity. The Starks invited him in, made him welcome, and he repaid them like this. The horror of what he had done settled on Peter like a blanket made of stone, weighing him down and cutting off his airways. He gasped for breath, sobs escaping unbidden. Peter's shoulders shook, and he felt scared. Scared, and guilty, and sad, and so, so sorry. Eventually the sobs stopped of their own accord. He picked up the broken glass, wrapped it in tissue and disposed of it. Then he went to the guest bedroom, sat on the bed, and waited. He didn't hear anything from Tony or Pepper. Was that good news, or bad? Did he even want to know? He waited for hours, and tried not to think about what Tony and Pepper must think of him now. Tried not to think about Morgan, lying in a hospital bed with chemical burns. Tried not to think of the further betrayal he was planning. Didn't succeed. Somewhere around midnight it became clear nobody would be returning home any time soon. Peter supposed that made things easier for him, anyhow. And besides, they would be glad to see the back of him, so really he was just saving them all an awkward goodbye. When he thought about it like that it felt reasonable. He would have liked to say goodbye to Morgan, but in the long run it was probably best to have a clean break. He lay on the bed and closed his eyes, but couldn't get any sleep. In fact, he felt worse when the alarm he had set rang at six. He dragged his bag out from under the mattress, and looked around the room. It was clean enough. Satisfied, he went downstairs. No point sneaking out the window when nobody was around to care. The front door locked automatically behind him. He looked around. The stars were out, and there was something remarkably still about the whole scene. Peter turned away, and walked on. There weren't any bus routes near Tony's house, remote as it was. He walked a while before reaching the main road. That was where he'd booked the cab for. The cab driver looked uneasy.

"How old are you, kid?"

"Twenty one."

Technically, it wasn't a lie. The driver seemed to accept it. It was early, and he had more important things to worry about than some runaway kid anyway. As long as he got paid, no questions would be asked. They drove away from the black stillness of the lake, towards the glaring lights of the city.

Peter got out at 177A Bleecker Street, and the cab sped away, trailing smoke behind it. Peter didn't pause to think about what he was doing. The decision was made. Maybe he would actually manage to get it right this time. He let himself in. Clint and Strange were waiting upstairs.

"Glad you could make it."

Clint stretched out a hand, and Peter shook it. If the archer noticed anything off about Peter, he hid it well. Dr Strange nodded at him. He was standing in a large circle, filled with carvings in no language Peter recognised. Also, strangely enough, what looked like someones shirt?

"Are you ready?" Asked the Doctor. Peter blinked slowly. He felt suddenly as if he was moving through thick syrup. He raised his bag hesitantly.

"Need to… put my suit on."

The Doctor nodded. "Be quick."

Peter found an empty room. He struggled into the suit. Gritting his teeth, he undid his sling and pushed his arm into the empty sleeve. It hurt like hell, but even more so when he pressed the button and the suit sealed itself around him. Shaking it off, he went back into the main room.

"I'm ready."

Clint looked concernedly at Peter's blackened right arm.

"Kid, you gonna be ok using that arm?" He looked to the doctor. "Can't you do something about that?"

Strange shook his head. "When we return, possibly. Until then, it is important he stays exactly as he is. His arm represents the sacrifice he made when using the infinity stones. If I repaired it now, it is doubtful he could access the pocket dimension, and then this would all be for nothing."

"I'll be fine, really."

"Good. Step into the circle please."

Peter and Clint did so. The doctor explained the process to them.

"In a moment I will open a portal. I have within the circle, a shirt belonging to Steve Rogers. It will connect us to him, and wherever the Mr Rogers of our timeline is, it will connect us to it. When the portal opens, Clint will step through, followed by Peter. I will go last. Wherever we end up, it is of the utmost importance that we stay _under the radar._ Our goal is to retrieve the soul stone, nothing else. Do you both understand?"

Clint agreed, and Peter nodded. It was strange. Theoretically, he knew that he should be terrified, but it felt like his nerves were on fire, and singing at the same time. He wasn't scared. He was _excited. _A moment later Strange spread his hands wide, and a shimmering orange portal sprang into existence. Clint turned to face it.

"Once more unto the breach." He murmured, and was gone a moment later. Peter didn't hesitate before hurling himself headfirst through orange sparks and time.


	18. Chapter 18

Hi guys. Firstly, apologies because this is not a new chapter. Sorry! Although I know where I want to take this story, I am experiencing some writers block. In the meantime, to gain more experience writing, I was wondering if anyone had any ideas for one shots or short fics they would like me to write? If there are any I feel I could do justice to then I would be happy to have a go!

Sorry again that this is not a new chapter, hopefully they will be forthcoming.

Thanks guys,

DQ02


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